


Metus

by graysonsflight, millenniumrobin



Series: Lost and Found [24]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergence, Complicated Relationships, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Nightmares, Pain, Panic Attacks, Protective Siblings, Slow Burn, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:35:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 84,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24716917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graysonsflight/pseuds/graysonsflight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/millenniumrobin/pseuds/millenniumrobin
Summary: Following the death of Wally West, Dick Grayson disappeared for three years. When he returned with a very undead Jason Todd in tow, he knew things would be complicated - he just never expected it to be this bad. With Bruce off world for the second time in as many months, the kids are forced to face a new threat head on, because now, the bad guys are coming for one of their own.
Relationships: Artemis Crock/Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon & Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain & Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain & Everyone, Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: Lost and Found [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/58469
Comments: 171
Kudos: 150





	1. Chapter One: A Very Long Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there :) Do not adjust your screen - millenniumrobin and I (Graysonsflight) back and Metus has gone through a _complete_ overhaul. For those of you who are still here (5 years after this story started this universe) Thank you so much for sticking with us. Chapter updates are going to be weekly and we are so excited to share all the is hard work with you. Plot lines have been updated, holes have been filled, and more has been added.  
>  **Soundtrack:** as the opening credits to this fic, please consider: "Game of Survival" by Ruelle, and as a second song please take a look at "Yellow Flicker Beat" By: Lorde

**Chapter One: A Very Long Night**

[ _Jason_ | _Dick_ | _Barbara_ ]

It had been a long night. Jason was sore, and cold, and extremely tired. Being good- _ish_ and playing by all the Bat’s old rules again was _exhausting_ . This whole _not killing_ thing took a lot more energy out of him than it had any right to. Glancing at his phone, he was completely unimpressed with the time; it felt a whole lot later than quarter to midnight. He knew that there were still thugs wandering the streets of Gotham, but stopping several muggings and a handful of B-and-E’s had kept him busy. He rolled his shoulders and popped a few joints in his neck. Hell, it had been a long _week_. It always seemed to be when the Big Guy was off world, but at least the more well-known freaks of Gotham had been keeping a low profile so far – which meant they were doing a good enough job that nobody realized the Big Bad Bat wasn’t out prowling.

Catching his reflection in a closed down shop window, Jason grimaced. Helmet hair wasn’t a good look and he needed a haircut. He ran his hand through it, the moon catching his white streak; sliding it further down, he tried to scrub some life back into his face. Jason hated that he wasn’t wearing his mask, despised being out in his civvies with his only weapon completely covered by his pant leg and boots. At least he could still wear his leather jacket in Gotham and nobody spared him a second glance.

Jason was uncomfortable with how exposed he felt, but when Oracle called a meeting, not a single one of them were dumb enough to not show up. As far as Jason was concerned, very few things were worth facing the wrath of Barbara Gordon. While he didn’t love the location of their meeting place – the 24-hour-diner on Lexington and 23rd – what Barbie wanted, Barbie got. She had her reasons, and when it was time for him to know them, he would. 

Jason pulled open the door to the diner, the slight ache in his head not appreciating the cheery chime of bells that announced him. Apparently, the sound didn’t impress the bored, tired-looking woman in a waitress’ uniform either. She glanced up at him from behind the counter with contempt. Jason let his eyes quickly scan over the rest of the room, gleefully noticing its lack of occupants; he was the first one here. The corner of his mouth tipped up in smug satisfaction. For once _he’d_ be the one to get the most coveted seat – the one with his back to the wall and eyes on the door. Dickie was going to be pissed.

The haggard looking waitress walked up to him, reaching into her hostess stand for a plastic-clad menu.

“Just you?” she asked, her nose wrinkling in skepticism at the sight of him. Jason shook his head in response.

“Nah,” he replied holding both hands up on either side of his head. “Need a big table.”

The waitress frowned, looking him up and down again. Clearly, she did not find his well-loved leather jacket and battered-looking jeans impressive. She was probably trying to decide if a tip from him was going to be worth the hassle. Jason tried on his most charming smile – which admittedly probably made him look more troublesome, but the woman just sighed and flicked her hand towards the back of the room.

“Help yourself,” she grabbed a stack of menus and followed him to the table. “Coffee, hon?”

Jason nodded, his hands rubbing over his face again. “So much coffee.” He looked up to meet her eyes though his fingers. He pulled them down by his side with a snap.

“I mean, yes please. The other people coming are going to want some too.” If he was going to be sticking with this good boy routine, the least he could do was use the manners his mother had attempted to teach him when she wasn’t tweaking – the ones Alfred had worked to polish.

“Uh-huh,” the waitress replied. “How many are we talking here?”

Jason thought for a second before answering. “There’s seven of us total.” He knew he should have that number memorized, but he was tired, and numbers had always been Dick’s thing.

The woman raised an eyebrow, still looking at him.

“But we only need five coffees. The other two will want a tea and a hot chocolate.”

“Of course,” she replied with a huff, turning back towards the kitchen. She came back only a minute later, tray laden with chipped white mugs and matching saucers. Jason’s was set down with a thunk, sloshing some of the contents out onto the napkin settled on the plate.

“Cream?” she asked.

“Not for me,” Jason answered, stretching out to take hold of the sugar on the table. He began pouring it into his coffee with his right hand, picking up his spoon to stir with the left. “But if you could grab some milk, please? Some of the others like it.”

The woman kept watching skeptically as Jason continued to drown his coffee in the sugar. She seemed personally invested in how long he was going to keep pouring – but Jason wasn’t the least bit ashamed.

“Right,” she said, turning after Jason had finally set the sugar down.

As she walked away from him, the chime of the door sounded again. She greeted the newcomers with a bit more enthusiasm than she had shown Jason.

A slender young woman with chin length black hair held the door open as a redhead wheeled herself in, followed closely by a chattering blonde in a purple peacoat.

“Sit anywhere you like, girls,” the woman told them. Jason was stunned to see the woman knew how to smile.

“Thanks, Angie,” the blonde chirped. “We’re meeting some friends tonight though, maybe they-” she stopped when the black haired girl made eye contact with Jason and pointed. “Never mind!”

Barbara turned towards him with a smile, albeit a tired one. She looked like she hadn’t slept for the better part of a week, but she wheeled herself over to the table, coming in against the only side not blocked by a chair. Jason mentally kicked himself – he should have thought to move the chairs over before they’d gotten here. But Babs greeted him warmly all the same.

“Mornin’, Jason,” she said with a yawn, reaching for the coffee mug closest to her. “You ruin this one with sugar yet?”

“Nope, all yours,” he promised, sliding himself over just a hair as Cass soundlessly moved herself to sit next to him. She was probably the only one he’d be willing to share the “best spot” with.

Stephanie sat down across from him with a wink. “Hey, handsome.” Jason raised an eyebrow at her, his lips pulling back into a smile.

“Hey, Blondie. Staying out of trouble?” 

She shrugged noncommittally and reached out for a mug of her own. Jason turned back to Cass, lowering his voice some.

“I got you a tea, should be coming.” The girl nodded her thanks.

The waitress, _Angie_ , Jason corrected, made her way back over, her smile from before still in place. Jason found it wholly unfair.

“You girls should have told me you were coming in,” she said, cheerily handing the markedly nicer looking tea mug into Cass’s outstretched hands before setting the pitcher of milk in front of Barbara. “The boy here said there’d be seven of you, that right?”

Jason tried not to take _the boy_ thing too personal. Just because he didn’t _exactly_ know how old he was anymore didn’t make him young enough to be _the boy_. That should be reserved for the little demon who’d be waltzing in any minute. With a quick look up to the clock above the door, he grinned: the other boys were running late. He turned back into the conversation just in time to hear Stephanie promise that the others should be there soon – and start placing orders for all of them. He was impressed she could actually remember it all. He turned again as Cass pulled on his sleeve.

“Damian will appreciate his coco,” she said, her voice soft and earnest. Jason respected her optimism, but sincerely doubted Damian knew how to appreciate anything.

“The little princeling has been getting moody again lately,” Steph chimed in. “I think it’s because he misses me.” 

Jason didn’t bother to hide his eye roll: “ _Or_ it’s because the Big Guy is off world again, for the second time this month,” he offered. Cass nodded sagely, but Stephanie merely stuck out her tongue before reaching for the milk and sugar to fix her own coffee.

He turned his eyes down the table towards Barbara, who had been unusually quiet. She sat fixated on her mug, chipped red nails drumming along its side. He cleared his throat to try and bring her back.

“So what’s the deal, Barbie?” He waited as her green eyes flickered up to him, studying, calculating as ever, before turning soft.

“I needed to get out,” she offered, pulling her mug up to rest it against her temple. “Besides, Steph’s been craving waffles.”

“Steph is always craving waffles,” Jason countered, very clearly not buying it.

“It’s true,” Stephanie agreed unapologetically. Barbara just sighed, stalling by taking a drink and glancing towards the door. Jason wanted to push, but he could see her nerves were already on edge and he’d rather stay on her good side. Life was always easier when in Barbara’s good graces. He turned instead to ask Cass how her dance classes had been going, and she happily, although very bluntly, filled him in.

As the minutes ticked by, Jason could feel Barbara’s mood darken. He listened as best he could to Steph and occasionally Cass as they worked to fill the quiet. They were stalling; they knew what was going on and were trying to keep him distracted until the three missing dumbasses showed. Jason couldn’t blame them and he played along. For Barbara’s sake.

The food came and still the other three seats stayed empty. With his bacon gone, Jason briefly considered stepping out to give Dick a call. He was pretty sure Dick wouldn’t go out of his way to be late to an Oracle summons – but the man could be an idiot when it came to Babs and Jason knew the two of them had been fighting again. He settled for stealing Tim’s bacon to keep himself busy.

“This was a mistake,” he heard Barbara whispering under her breath. Her food sat as untouched as Dick’s.

“I could find them,” Cass offered before Jason could. The girl was already starting to uncurl herself from her seat, but Barbara shook her head.

“It’s fine,” she insisted, her tone made it clear that there was nothing fine about it. Jason watched her from the corner of his eye. Everything about the redhead was tense, from the way she sat – ramrod straight – to the way she pounded back the last of her second cup of coffee. Even Stephanie couldn’t keep up the game of distraction with Barbara radiating this kind of frustration.

“So…” Jason started, not completely sure where he was headed. If Barbie heard him, she didn’t let on. He sighed, reaching his hand out to take the full cup of coffee sitting at Dick’s place at the table. Jason stopped himself, sighing before reaching for Tim’s coffee instead.

“You make no sense,” Stephanie scolded, clearly happy for an excuse to pick back up the talking. Jason knew she didn’t do well with the silence. “You already took the poor guy’s bacon – and now you’re taking his greatest love too?” Jason shrugged, still half-watching Barbara as he answered.

“Timmy likes his coffee hot enough to burn away any semblance of human emotion. And Dick just wants it in him as fast as possible.”

“Jason, how do you manage to make even coffee dirty?” Steph asked with a dramatic sigh. Jason just smirked and started measuring the sugar out into his newly claimed coffee cup. She was good; Jason had to hand it to her. Stephanie had managed to pull his attention off their fearless leader long enough for the moment to pass. 

Some people mistook the blonde’s friendly, incessant talking for weakness, but Jason knew better; it was just one of the easiest weapons in her arsenal. The ability to tune people out was one of the easiest in his.

Jason started going back through recent memories to see if he could figure it out. He watched Barbara as best he could for any kind of clue, all the while sipping at his coffee and making noncommittal noises at the right time.

He _knew_ Dick and Barbara’s relationship had been tense from the moment Dick had come home – Jason in tow. Running away from your friends and responsibilities for a few years did have that icy affect on personal relationships. 

While Jason had been given a free pass on account of, you know – _being dead and all_ – Dick had not been afforded the same kind of easy forgiveness. Not from Babs anyway. And then there was _the incident_ when Bruce was off world before – which they were strictly _not_ talking about. Any of them. It was completely off limits, even to him and he was willing to joke about anything. But this, this was something different.

Jason leaned forward, the back of his hand pressing up against Barbara’s arm, making her jump just a little. Steph was too involved in her story to Cass now to notice, but Barbara met his eyes. Jason caught it just before she was able to hide it again; she was more than just anxious. Whatever it was, it was enough to make the one of the strongest women he knew _scared_.

“Barbie?” He whispered, but she just shook her head and let out a soft sigh. She broke the eye contact by running her hands over her face the same way Dick did. And the same way he did. Jason fleetingly wondered if _all_ of them had picked that one up from Bruce, or if they’d just learned it from each other. Whatever the case, it made Barbara look a lot older than twenty-three.

“I only want to do this once,” she said, a gentle pleading in her voice and Jason couldn’t deny her. So he stayed quiet, even as he watched her plaster on the fakest of fake smiles for the waitress who was circling around to refill their empty coffee cups for what was going to be an inevitably longer night.

**\- - * - -**

It had been a long night. Dick scrubbed his hand tiredly over his face as he stood up to stretch. He had just finished tying the last zip-cord around the wrists of the would-be robber, who had one hell of a right hook. His fingers grazed his jaw gingerly; it was already starting to bruise. Dick rolled his eyes at himself – his hands should have been up, and he was undoubtedly going to be ridiculed by Damian when the kid realized what had happened. _This is precisely why you need me around, Grayson_. He could practically hear the child scoffing in his head already. Dick liked the kid, a lot in fact, but the last few months had certainly involved some growing pains.

“You are a complete and utter fool, _Red Robin_ ,” came the petulant sound crackling over Dick’s earpiece. _Speak of the devil_.

“I’m not. It is completely practical,” came the succinct reply. “Just admit that you’re jealous, and I’ll think about sharing the schematics with you.”

Dick sighed heavily as he shot his grappling gun up towards the roof the two of them were waiting on. He reasoned that his nights were always long when Bruce was off handling League business, but the added back and forth of Tim and Damian certainly hadn’t made his life any easier. Going out on patrol had _apparently_ meant that all three of them were going together – because neither one of them were willing to trust the other to watch Dick’s back and it wasn’t like he could have sent the eleven-year-old out on his own. 

And it wouldn’t have been a good idea to send either one of them with Jason. Tim and Jason were getting better, but the words _replacement_ and _sociopath_ had been thrown around a little too easily. As far as Jason and Damian were concerned, they only fed into each other’s proclivity towards excessive force. Dick had been working too hard with _both of them_ on that for them to relapse. The phrases _demon brat_ and _inept zombie_ had also popped up a little too frequently between those two to make Dick wholly comfortable.

“Give a rest guys. Please?” Dick begged as he landed in front of them. It wasn’t anything too serious, he knew, but their disagreements had a habit of spiraling out of control quickly, and Dick already had a splitting headache.

Both Damian, with his hood pulled up over his close-cropped hair, and Tim were standing with their arms crossed glowering at each other. 

“That costume,” Damian began, apparently choosing to ignore Dick’s pleading, “is by far the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen.”

“Says the eleven-year-old in a hooded cape,” Tim countered quickly. “Exactly how many times has that thing been used to blind you?”

“Exactly none,” Damian retorted, his cheeks flushing red. “Unlike you, I am a skilled combatant who doesn’t let my enemies get close enough to use my uniform against me.” Dick didn’t bother to call him out on the lie; he’d used the hood against Damian several times, but the kid refused to give it up. He was about to step in, but Damian was determined to get in one last jab.

“Unlike you, _Red_ Robin, I don’t have to rely on _theatrics_ to augment a disturbing lack of skills.”

“This isn’t for show!” Tim protested loudly, holding up one of his new “wings.”

Dick looked sideways at Tim’s newest costume design. He cringed slightly as he took in what appeared to be feathers lining his arms before furrowing out into a cape behind him. If Dick was honest, it did look a little… _over dramatic_ … but he had made a few of his own costume mistakes and wasn’t going to be the one to bring Tim down.

“My design is one-hundred-percent practical.” Tim flicked out his wrists, making the feathers go taunt. “Look, these are actually specially designed to turn my cape into a glider. I worked with Virgil to rig up an electrostatic unit in my cape that allows for perfect aerodynamics. It’s the closest we can come to flying.”

Damian only eyed the feathers despairingly, clearly unimpressed with the display.

“I would never be caught dead in something so utterly preposterous,” he sniffed. “You’re just like Icarus reincarnated, and I for one can only hope you share his fate.”

“And threats of physical violence is where I draw the line,” Dick interrupted, wearily moving to stand between them.

“I didn’t threaten to kill him,” Damian contended. “I merely want my prediction noted.”

“One Oracle is enough, thank you,” Dick said, rubbing his hands over his face, and wincing as he forgot about the burse. He wished, for probably the hundredth time that day alone, that Damian spoke like a normal eleven-year-old; maybe if he did, Tim would be able to resist arguing with the kid.

“C’mon,” Dick said, trying to cut off whatever response had been on the tip of Tim’s tongue. “We’re late as it is.” 

“You know she’s going to kill all three of us, right?” Tim asked as he looked down at his wrist computer. “We were supposed to be there more than half an hour ago.”

Dick didn’t bother to remind Tim that he had been sitting pretty high on Bab’s kill list for a while now. Thirty minutes here or there wasn’t going to make much of a difference. And she would absolutely blame Dick for this… and she’d be right too. He had been dredging this meeting since she’d called it, and then had refused to elaborate when he’d reached out. 

Damian sighed tersely: “This is all your fault, Red Robin. Hood has probably already seized the prime seat as well.” _Ah yes_. He was, of course, referring to the only seat at any table where you could have both your back to the wall and your eyes on the front door. It was a thing with them. The only time it was a non-issue was when they were all eating with Bruce – and then there was no question in anyone’s mind who got to have the good seat. Too bad family dinners never really seemed to work out.

“How is this my- ”

“Please,” Dick begged, his hand coming to rest on Tim’s shoulder. “Let me worry about Oracle.” He stooped down to pick up the large duffle bag at the young boy’s feet. It contained civvies for the three of them, along with Damian’s helmet. Both Tim and Dick’s motorcycles were stashed in the alley beneath them – the one on the opposite side of the men currently tied up and waiting for GCPD’s finest.

Dick stood up, swinging the bag across his body. “Let’s go.”

“Wait!” Tim stopped him, the excitement clear in his voice. “Let me show you how it works!” Dick didn’t need to see his face to picture the unadulterated look of joy that covered it. The teen whipped both wrists out hard, bringing his pseudo-wings to attention, took a few steps back, and then with a running start, threw himself off the building. 

Both Dick and Damian rushed to the ledge to stare down after him. Dick was relieved to see Tim’s contraption had worked. But to be fair, he was also ashamed of himself for doubting the kid in the first place.

“When he does break his ankles,” Damian said, interrupting Dick’s moment of pride. “I want it known that I will not be offering to assist with his chores around the manor.” The younger boy fired off his grapple gun without flair and swung himself down from the building and into the alley; Dick followed close behind. He’d have to tell Tim later he was pretty impressed with his new wings.

As the last one to make it to the bikes, Dick unzipped the pack and started handing out clothes. He sorted out jeans, shirts and reinforced jackets suitable for riding through the city. With Damian’s helmet, they hadn’t had room for spare shoes, so Dick was just glad all of their boots could easily pass as biker gear. He kicked the steel-toes off quickly to change one pair of pants for another.

After they’d dressed, and Dick had crammed their Kevlar plates, titanium weave bodysuits, and even Tim’s feathers into the now much heavier duffle bag, he handed over Damian’s helmet. It had been a gift for Damian’s latest birthday: black with streaks of yellow and green flying back from the safety visor, a small, barely noticeable little bird soaring near the crown of his head.

“Make sure you get the chinstrap tightened,” he reminded before snagging his own helmet off the back of the bike. He pulled it down snuggly over his ears before turning on the computer in his visor, making sure all three helmets had hooked into their comm system.

Dick straddled the bike and felt it dip as Damian climbed on behind him. With a smile, he keyed into the ignition. It felt good, the machine coming to life at his touch. Tim kicked his own bike into gear and started off towards the diner.

“Do try not to drive like you’re Pennyworth’s age this time, Grayson,” Damian told him. He could feel the younger boy shifting slightly, his arms wrapping around him, and gripping on to his jacket with gloved hands. Bruce, who knew how Dick actually liked to drive, had insisted Damian always wear full gear before getting onto the back of Dick’s bike.

_Funny_ , Dick thought as he peeled his way out of the ally. How Bruce had trusted him on a modified bike when he was Damian’s age, but was uncomfortable with the littlest Robin even being a passenger. He laughed to himself as he revved the engine, hitting the gas to catch up to Tim. Dick could feel Damian’s grip getting tighter, but he could also feel what he swore must have been the rumble of laughter coming from the boy. Not that Damian Wayne would ever admit to such folly. Dick felt himself let out a whoop of excitement as he pushed the bike faster. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.

**\- - * - -**

It had been a long night. Barbara had grown accustomed to the extra work she had to do when Bruce was away, but for whatever reason, this week had just felt more exhausting. Little things had been getting to her more and more, like she was living in a story and the author was building to the climax. Four hours ago, Barb was let in on the twist, and she didn’t particularly care for it. She had always seen going after kids as a cheap plot device.

Barbara tried to keep her mind on the facts, on what she knew. She wanted to have everything prepared and laid out when Dick finally decided to show himself, knowing he’d do everything he could to poke holes in her information. Instead, her brain was trying the “what ifs” on for size. It was an annoying game in which her memory and her tendency to overthink things tag-teamed to create vivid pictures so realistic that she occasionally had to remind herself that they hadn’t happened.

She set her coffee mug down with a little too much force as she tried to shake the latest from her mind. All three sets of eyes turned to her, but mercifully, they had all stopped trying to ask her what was going on.

Both Stephanie and Cass had an incredibly vague idea; there had been no way of hiding it from them when she had started cursing an unholy blue streak into their accidentally left open comm channel. The two of them had raced back to the clock tower ready and willing to do whatever they could to help, and both had thankfully accepted Barbara’s request for patience.

Everything had been going fine. She had sent the two girls on patrol together earlier on in the night. They had handled the upper east side of the city, Jason had taken the Docks, and Dick had had both Tim and Damian out with him. The city was being well cared for in Bruce’s absence and despite numerous small level crimes, things had been quiet. Barbara was willing to call it a good night when no one who frequented Arkham was making a mess of things. She should have known that the city wouldn’t make her life that easy though – it never did. Gotham was greedy in that way; it took everything it could from a person, and then demanded that they find more to sustain it.

So of course, one of her alarms started going off. It was a simple _ping_ that changed everything. It might as well have been a claxon or the relentless peel of a fire alarm for all the damage it was sure to do. Barbara’s computers only made this kind of sound for one reason; someone’s name popping up in places it shouldn’t. A credible threat had been made against a member of the family. It was the same kind of technology used by Homeland Security to monitor the darker corners of the net for threats against the President or other important political leaders. Except Barbara’s updates guaranteed it would work better and significantly faster than the versions being used by the government. Hers also happened to be a lot harder to use as a backdoor entrance into her own programming.

“ _What do you have for me, baby_ ?” she had whispered, moving to action even as her stomach clenched. Fear wasn’t an emotion Barbara Gordon could afford to have. She minimized all other windows, including her live feeds that were following every one of the Batkids around for the evening. Her eyes scanned the screen quickly hitting every highlighted word like a gunshot: _Wayne. Reward. Ransom._ And if that was all it had been she might have breathed a sigh of relief, but much more concerning phrases began jumping out as well: _Little Demon, Nightmare Venom, investor_. 

It didn’t all make sense – but enough of it did. The players involved were smart enough not to use the kid’s first name, but weren’t trying nearly hard enough to disguise the tie-in to Damian’s school schedule, or the fact that his father seemed to be away on business.

By the time Steph and Cass had made it back to her, Barbara had already connected all four of the boys into one channel of her choosing, cracking Dick’s attempt at cloaking without batting an eye. But the simple hack had been just enough to calm her down - enough to let her request their presence at the diner on Lexington and 23rd instead of demanding it. They’d all agreed to the meeting, Dick probably feeling guilty enough for having tried to hide from her that he didn’t argue, at least not in front of the others. But now, as the minutes continued to tick by and he _still_ wasn’t here, she was beginning to wonder. She wanted to trust him, but a voice in her head only whispered that he’d gotten a little too good at breaking promises. 

Barbara could feel Jason’s blue green eyes watching her even as he listened to, and occasionally participated in, Stephanie’s conversation. She was grateful, well aware that Steph was covering for her – and that Jason was allowing it to happen. She wanted to thank them both, but then she’d have to admit how anxious she was feeling. Her eyes darted to her watch and she smiled back at Angie when the older woman eyed the three empty seats with meals still sitting before them. She slid her uneaten bacon over to Jason who took it without comment.

The slight tinkle of bells from the front of the building stopped all four Bats at the table as the remaining three walked in. Barbara sized them up quickly, scanning for signs of serious injuries that could have excused them being more than _an hour late_. She sighed, equally relived and frustrated by their seemingly good health.

Dick led the way with his easy grace. He wore his soft leather jacket and a slightly crooked smile on his face. Barbara could just start to make out the bruise forming on his left cheek; he was laughing at something Damian had said so it couldn’t have been too bad.

The smallest of the three of them, Damian was wearing the most obviously expensive clothes, his inexplicable air of maddening superiority clung to his every move in a way no eleven-year-old had a right to. Barbara could feel the tightness in her chest loosening some as she watched him make his way towards her; he was completely fine, not a single strand of his dark hair was out of place.

Tim followed behind the other two, his eyes always moving and assessing. She knew that the hands shoved inside his dark jacket were fidgeting endlessly as he counted every possible entrance and exit to the diner. Even though he had been here countless times before, this was a habit he could not shake.

“You’re late,” Barbara told them as soon as they were within easy hearing, her eyes leveled at Dick. She watched his smile tighten a little, but he didn’t let it slip from his face.

“Hey Babs,” he replied, sitting beside her as both Tim and Damian found their seats. Barbara suddenly didn’t like how close he was. Her brain quickly flashed through a hundred times they’d been this close and a hundred more moments when they had been closer, but every single one of those felt like a lifetime ago. No matter how many times his presence alone had quieted her nerves before, it did nothing but rile them now. She pushed herself away from the table ever so slightly. The others might have missed it, but Dick didn’t; she watched the hurt slide across his features quickly before he could cover by reaching for his cold coffee cup. He downed it in one go.

“I am so sorry Barbara,” Tim almost shouted. The kid had a knack for breaking up awkward moments only by creating different ones. “We got held up a little bit and then I got excited to show them the upgrades to my new cost-” Barbara could hear the thud of Damian kicking Tim under the table.

“His new shoes,” the smaller boy supplied, eyeing the waitress. Damian reached out for his hot chocolate, sighing severely when he realized it had gone cold.

“Seriously?” Stephanie asked leaning closer towards Damian, her hand coming protectively onto Tim’s forearm. “Shoes, D? That’s the best you could come up with?”

“Perhaps I could have come up with something more interesting given more time. Or given something actually interesting to work with. Drake’s _shoes_ leave much to be desired.” Damian snapped back, scorn lacing every word.

Tim looked down at his real shoes with a bit of a shrug. “It’s not my fault the rules of aerodynamicity are complicated,” he muttered, picking up his fork to start eating what Jason had left him.

Damian rolled his eyes dramatically before looking down at his own plate and scowling. “Who ordered for me?” he demanded. 

Stephanie smiled wickedly, her eyes sparkling.

“Off the children’s menu? And you have the audacity to imply _I’m_ simplistic?”

Barbara squeezed her eyes shut, her mouth opening to try and rein this meeting back in before it got well and truly out of hand, but Jason’s laugh stopped her.

“If you’re really that offended, kiddo, you can order something else. I like pancakes and I’d be more than happy to eat yours.”

Damian sighed more deeply than Barbara thought pancakes really deserved, but he did pick up his fork.

“No,” he said. “It’s here. I might as well eat it.”

She watched impatiently as they all lapsed into eating, Angie coming by again to refill their coffees. Barbara closed her eyes, willing this picture into her memory banks. If only for this brief moment in time, she could pretend that the seven of them were some type of normal. But that was a lie. She waited until the waitress was stationed back up at the front of the diner with her magazine firmly in place before daring to break the normalness.

“We have a problem,” Barbara whispered. She hadn’t planned it to come out that way, but all of them had heard her. All six pairs of eyes held her in place. Dick’s slid sideways to the waitress first, but she was ignoring them completely.

“Here, Babs?” he asked, a warning in his voice. Barbara knew that it had to be here, for the same reason she was sure Dick didn’t want it to be. It was somewhere open; somewhere the both of them would have to keep their cool and think twice before starting to yell at each other. Barbara nodded, her fingers curling around her mug for support.

“There’s been some talk on the darker parts of the Web,” she started. She noted the way Dick’s eyes flashed to Tim and the almost imperceptible shrug the younger boy gave. She hated how she knew that look – because it used to be one Dick shared with _her_ – but she plowed on, purposefully avoiding looking towards Damian as the harder part of her report came out: “It’s been on some of the sites I’m looking after. B’s orders. There’s something in the works, it involves a kidnapping.” Barbara watched as it hit each of them: Steph and Tim’s wide eyes, to Dick, Jason, and Cass’s narrowed ones. And then there was Damian Wayne himself. His eyes dropped angrily towards his lap. She couldn’t stop her own from settling on him now.

Damian could be a brat, full of this anger Barbara couldn’t even begin to understand, but sitting there, watching him glare furiously though a mouth full of pancakes, she was reminded of how very young he still was. No one his age should have to live with the constant reminder that they were a target. Being Jim Gordon’s daughter had put her in danger before, sure, but it wasn’t a piece of her childhood she wished on anyone. Next to her, Barbara could feel both Dick and Jason shifting, and knew that they too were remembering things they didn’t wish for Damian. Without a doubt in her mind, Barbara knew that any one of the people at this table would give their life to keep the boy safe – she just didn’t want it to come to that. 

“Babs,” Dick whispered, shifting his body towards her. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Which part?” Barbara challenged, her gaze meeting his. Dick allowed his eyes to flit towards Damian for the briefest of instants.

“ _We_ should talk about this first,” he answered trying to keep his voice low enough that the others wouldn’t hear. A plan that was absolutely pointless as far as Barbara was concerned. It was Damian’s life – he had a right to the information.

“He’s old enough, Dick,” she said looking towards the youngest of them. “Look, when you were his age -”

“Barbara,” Dick interrupted, his voice back up to a normal volume, but trying to imitate the commanding tone of Bruce, and failing. “We don’t know how credible this is and bringing it to everyone like this, causing panic–”

“Excuse me?” she asked, taking her turn at interrupting. “We _nothing_. I’ve done my job, Dick. You honestly believe that I haven’t looked into this? That I haven’t thought this through?”

“I don’t know, Babs,” Dick’s voice wavered as he ran his hands through his hair, one of them staying to grip the back of his neck, a tell of his worry. “I don’t know – not if this is the first I’m hearing of it.”

“Right,” Barbara scoffed. “Because you’re the end all be all when it comes to intel, aren’t you?” While the sounds of their voices carried no further than the seven people sitting at the table, the air around them hung heavy with tension.

Dick locked his eyes with hers, searching for something. Barbara could practically see the pieces in his mind moving, trying to find the perfect way to put his words together – but whatever it was he hadn’t found it yet. This argument was always waiting, lurking in dark corners. They had been dancing around it ever since Dick had come back. It was a war; skirmishes and respites chasing each other in an endless loop. It was never the “right time,” and anytime they might have been calm enough to have it like two sane and rational people, neither one of them had wanted to shatter the peace, choosing instead to prolong the inevitable for just a minute of a shared lie.

The slap of palms on the table snapped them out of it, making them both jump.

“Cover your ears, D,” Stephanie said with a theatrical sigh. “Mommy and Daddy are fighting at the dinner table.”

“… _Again_ …” Tim and Cass added in simultaneous deadpan. Barbara looked towards Damian with regret, his small hands holding his fork and knife like weapons.

“I got this,” Jason murmured. “You two go.”

Dick looked to her, his mouth set in a line, and nodded his head towards the door. Barbara didn’t want to, but she nodded in return, pushing herself back from the table. With his reflexes heightened, Dick was up before she’d gotten very far, moving towards the back of her chair as if to guide her.

“I’ve managed fine enough without you this long, Dick. I don’t need your help now.” She had meant it in regards to her wheelchair, but Cass’s sharp intake of breath and the flash of shame on Dick’s face made her realize her words had been taken for more. It didn’t matter; three years was a long time. Either way, what she said hadn’t been a lie. As she rolled herself towards the door, she could hear Dick turning back to the others.

“We’ll be back,” he promised – his voice lighter than Barbara knew he felt. “Order whatever you want, Bruce is paying.” She hated how quickly he caught up to her about as much as she hated the fact that she did need him to open the door. Barbara moved past him without a second glance, the sound of the door’s chimes following her into the night.

She led them over towards the side of the building. It was a nice alley; big enough for two people to stand next to each other comfortably, but still draped in enough shadow so as not to be noticeable. Under different circumstances Barbara might have thought it more amusing that she knew so much about the alleyways of Gotham. But she didn’t have time for amusement, or for the tiny flashes of memories that were tugging at her conscious. Each of them were glimpses into different times she and Dick had been in this exact same spot, their arms wrap around each other or fingers clasped _instead of_...

“Look, Babs,” Dick started, his hands already held up in apology. “It isn’t that I don’t trust you, but you can’t… you can’t…” he trailed off. Barbara was struck by the fact that while Dick Grayson was incredibly good at _looking_ like he was sorry – actually _being_ sorry was a thing he didn’t handle well. Actually being sorry meant you didn’t keep doing the thing that led to the apology.

“I can’t let everyone involved know what’s going on?” she offered, her voice flat. “I need to pick and choose who I leave in the dark?”

Dick, eyes still on the pavement, scrubbed both hands over his face.

“I have already apologized for that,” he whispered. “I did what I thought I had to do. I’m not nineteen anymore, Babs.”

“I’m aware,” Barbara answered, her voice cold. “I’m sure you grew and all, but I didn’t really get the option of being around for that.” Dick’s blue eyes widened like she had slapped him. A part of her really wanted to, but instead she pressed on. “Look, Dick, I’m doing what I have to do now. I’m not going to run my team based on leaving people out of an information loop. If you’re old enough to wear the mask, you’re old enough to know all the risks that come with it.”

She knew Dick didn’t agree with that by the way his shoulders tightened. If Barbara was good at reading most people, she was an expert with Dick Grayson. She watched as he opened his mouth, but cut him off, already knowing where he was headed and wanting to deal with exactly none of it.

“Just because B’s off world doesn’t put you in charge,” she said, fingers coming together in her lap.

“No, he didn’t put anyone in charge,” Dick countered.

“And he hasn’t, any time he’s been on League assignment, I’ve been the one in charge. For the last couple of years, Dick, it’s been me.”

“When I had on the cape—”

“We’re not going to talk about what happened when you had to put on the suit,” her voice was steel, smooth and razor sharp, and it hit it’s mark.

“I’ve been a part of this team longer than anyone else has,” Dick said, eyes finding hers in the dark. He was warning her, trying to get her to see just how close they both were to losing their control and saying things that would make it hard to go back inside and pretend that everything between them was fine. But she was too deep now, and Barbara went in for the kill.

“You’ve been home about six months, Dick. That doesn’t erase three years worth of missions you _should_ have been on. Thirty-six months worth of real life _hell_ that you didn’t have to deal with.” Dick turned his back, but she wasn’t done yet. The words came spilling out of her, angry and raw.

“You ran away,” she said, her voice an accusation, shaking with the effort of staying quiet. “You ran away for three years, Dick. Without a word to me, or Tim, or even Bruce.” She watched as his shoulder curved inward, protecting, and he was ten years old again in her head, but she kept going.

“You may not realize it,” she continued, her voice growing calmer. “But I was the one who stepped up. I was second-in-command. _Hell_ , half the time I was it,” she laughed a little, completely devoid of joy as flashes of memories played themselves on loop in her mind. “I even had to boss Bruce around a few times.”

Dick turned back around to her, his face like that of a man facing a firing squad, but he stayed blessedly silent.

“I’m the one who had to help him figure out what to do about a son he didn’t know existed. And then I got to help work with that little boy, who probably had enough trauma to fill volumes. Speaking of, I helped Tim though his first ever break-up, the feeling of being abandoned, and _oh_ , the death of his _father_ . I’ve trained _two_ new girls and managed to help keep the _other_ team running as well. Is that enough for you, Dick?”

“I know,” Dick replied. “I know I have let a lot of people down… that I let you down so many times,” his eyes slid to the one thing Barbara had staunchly refused to mention and any semblance of guilt she had felt for lighting into him faded in an instant.

“Are you serious?” she demanded, her fingers digging tightly into her palms. “I am not talking about this goddamn chair!” She finally yelled. “I have done more good sitting,” she paused, swallowing her anger and bringing her voice down with it. “Dick, I have done more good from this wheelchair than I ever did flying over the rooftops with a target painted on my chest.”

Barbara slipped her hands down to the wheels of her chair, pushing forward and back towards the door, not caring if he was following or not.

“And speaking of targets, there is a legitimate threat to one of ours right now,” she reminded him, her voice completely back to business. “I’m going back inside, and I’m going to let the rest of them know what’s going on.”

With her back to him, she pushed herself a little further, willing herself not to cry. She was still angry, but she refused to bring that back into the diner. No one else should have to deal with this. It had been a very long night, and if this was any indication, it was only going to get longer.


	2. Chapter Two: Without a Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian doesn't take the news well. And a lot of things could have been avoided if Tim had been listened to in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So we're thinking we're going to be doing Thursday updates from here on out. Thank you so much for the support on the last chapter - this one is also on the side of exposition and continued poor choices abound. We're trying to put songs with chapters, but none of ours seemed to fit with this one - if you've got one, feel free to let us know!

**Chapter Two: Without a Plan**

[ _Tim_ | _Damian_ | _Tim_ ]

Tim was not having a great night. In the grand scheme of things, he supposed it had been _fine_ so far, aside from the usual, but it didn’t make it great. No one had gotten too banged up and the city had been pretty quiet, but everything had been grating on his nerves. Going out on patrol with Damian always did that to him though. He wanted to chalk his current feeling of unease up to his perpetual anxiety, but this just felt like something more. Tim couldn’t shake the idea that even as late as it was, his night was really only getting started. He was going to need more coffee. A lot of it. He glanced longingly at his empty cup, but he wasn’t willing to call over the waitress. Fortunately, Stephanie seemed to have caught his look and stopped her halfhearted attempts at engaging the little demon in conversation to call over Angie. He thanked the woman and she went on her way. Tim brought the near-scalding liquid to his lips with a sigh. He was trying incredibly hard not to keep glancing at his watch. He knew it’d been less than two minutes since he last looked, but he lacked the needed impulse control and checked anyway.

Cass caught him slipping up and nodded her head. Dick and Barbara had already been outside for almost ten minutes and the longer they were gone, the worse it was going to be. These days, anytime the two of them were alone talking for more than five minutes, Tim started fearing for Dick’s life. He just knew Dick was going to say something he shouldn’t; Barbara’s patience was bound to run out eventually. He missed the old days.

While Tim was endlessly grateful for Dick’s return home, things had gotten more complicated. The fact that a not-dead Jason Todd came back too – while completely unexpected and a little unsettling – was probably the least difficult part of the whole situation. If anything, Jason’s existence had probably eased some of the tension. The truth was that three years was a long time; a lot had happened.

It wasn’t that Tim hadn’t missed Dick, because he had. Every day he had missed the boy who had become his older brother. He had even missed the _idea_ of Jason too. Even though Robin number two had never really been a part of his life, Tim had, on more than one occasion, found himself talking to the once fallen teen’s hologram in the grotto. He’d done it even more after Dick had gone. Even though there had never been any evidence to support the idea that Dick had died, Tim had mourned him. He’d gotten pretty good at existing with an underlying sense of grief – it had made it just the slightest bit easier to cope with the loss of his father. And when he couldn’t cope anymore Tim had done the only thing he could; he had turned to Barbara – because she knew what it felt like to be left behind over and over again. 

Tim had just gotten used to the fact that Dick was gone, and that he probably wasn’t going to be coming back home. He had gotten used to having Barbara in charge when Bruce was away. Barbara was who Tim had turned to when he and Cassie Sandsmark had decided that they worked better as friends. He’d gone to her when he started trying to figure out how he felt about Steph – he still really wasn’t completely sure what was going on there, but he was trying. And she was who he would talk to when Damian showed up and became the most annoying thing to happen… since _ever_.

“Tim, come back to us,” Steph half sang, interrupting his thoughts. Tim looked around, noticing that three pairs of eyes were trained on him; Damian was too busy scowling at his pancakes.

“Wanna share anything with the class?” Jason asked, not unkindly. Tim was still trying to get used to his sarcasm. He had to remind himself that it was Jason trying to include him. So was the way Jason reached over to steal a fork full of home fries off his plate. Tim shrugged.

“They’ve been out there a while,” he said finally when they wouldn’t stop looking at him.

“Eight and a half,” Cass added solemnly. Tim noticed that she was not wearing any type of watch. Her ability to track time was a mystery to him; one of her many.

“You’re thinking we need to send out a peacemaker?” Steph offered, her eyes shifting to Jason, signaling her obvious choice of not being it. The older boy shook his head in response.

“They’re big kids. They get to handle this kind of crap on their own.”

“But,” Cass interrupted, her head tilting to the side in question.

“Look, if Dick does end up saying something stupid, Barbie has never had an issue reading him the riot act,” Jason stated with certainty. It was amazing to Tim the way Jason always seemed able to interpret Cass’ quirks.

“That’s probably why we’re worried,” Steph added, and Tim agreed. He wanted to ask Jason more questions, wanted him to explain all the extra little pieces he clearly understood about Dick and Barbara, but it very obviously was not the time, particularly as Jason checked out for a second – his blue-gray eyes squinting as though he were trying to see through the wall to where Dick and Barbara were. Half a beat later, it was as if nothing had happened, and Jason’s eyes were focused on the youngest member at their table.

“How’re you doing, kid?” Jason asked. For his part, Damian didn’t even bother to look up. Instead he stabbed a strawberry with enough intensity to make Tim cringe.

“Fine,” he replied, very obviously not even a little bit fine. That was a lie he was going to need to practice, Tim mused. From experience, he knew Damian would learn to tell it often.

“Look,” Steph said, a smile bright as the sun on her face. “I’m sure everything is going to be fine. It’s not like anyone could lay a finger on you with all of us around.”

Damian scoffed, finally deigning to raise his eyes with a sneer. “I require neither your protection or your empty pleasantries, Brown. Besides, knowing you, you’d be just as likely to attempt to hug my would be kidnappers into submission.”

Tim felt his body tense, waiting for an argument to start, his own ammunition on the tip of his tongue. But Stephanie only laughed, even now, the sound so clearly full of joy.

“Aww, Baby Bird, is that you saying you want a hug? All you ever have to do is ask.”

“If you so much as touch me, so help me, I will—”

“They’re done,” Cass interrupted, her head coming up at the sound of the chimes.

Barbara was already halfway to them as Dick was coming through the door, his hands moving through his hair. When Tim finally managed to catch his eye, and it took a few seconds, Dick smiled. There – that was the _I’m fine_ lie Damian was going to need to perfect.

“Right,” Barbara announced as if she had only paused to breathe. “So the threat appears to be credible enough. We’re going to be implementing a few extra security measures that I’ll be working through with Alfred for public life and in the meantime,” her eyes turned to Damian “you are to have someone with you at all times, is that clear?”

Tim had to hand it to the kid, at least grudgingly. He was handling this situation like he handled everything else: with an air of indifference you had to be born with. He ignored Barbara completely, choosing instead to keep eating. It was a rookie mistake, Tim knew, and frankly, the youngest Wayne really should have known better too.

“Damian Wayne,” Barbara hissed, her eyes completely ripping through the kid in a way Tim did not envy. It was a look he was very proud to say he had never been on the receiving end of. “I know damn well you heard me, just like I know you think you’re the toughest thing in this city, but until we know more, you are going to find yourself with a shadow everywhere you go. Do I make myself clear?”

The question hung in the air uncomfortably. No one, not even Dick, dared to intercede on Damian’s behalf, and Tim could feel the anger rolling off the boy in waves. Almost anyone else would have broken in the face of that much anger, but Barbara had gotten into the habit of staring down Bruce over the years; she would never be the one to blink first.

Finally, hell froze over and Damian looked up, suspiciously the model of compliance.

“I understand,” he said simply.

“Good.” Barbara relaxed her shoulders just a fraction of an inch, her eyes making a sweep of the table to see if anyone else had something to add. Tim was actually kind of impressed that none of them did. Barbara reached for her mug, breaking at least some of the tension, but not nearly enough of it.

Tim shivered at the way the mood had changed. It wasn’t like they’d been carefree before, but he was always unsettled when Dick was this quiet. His eldest brother sat rigidly in his seat, coffee mug pressed to his temple and his cereal ignored. Barbara was trying not to make it obvious that she was checking her phone, probably looking to see if the computer she had undoubtedly left running had picked up any more information for her.

Even Steph was silent, biting her lip as she looked into the bottom of her coffee cup. But what made Tim the most nervous was Damian. Damian had let his anger slip away; he was on his absolute best behavior, something Tim never trusted. The kid was already up to something, and Tim had a feeling that _something_ was only going to cause him more stress. He was grateful when Jason finally broke the oppressive stillness. 

“Soooo,” he started, moving his eyes from Barbara to Dick. “This has been fun and all, but I need to go let off some steam. There’s gotta be a couple of assholes we haven’t stopped yet tonight. Who’s coming with?” Tim knew the invite wasn’t for him; it was Jason trying to give Dick an easy out, but he didn’t take the rescue line Jason was offering. Stephanie caught it too, a forced smile lighting her face.

“Jason, that’s perfect!” She thunked her mug down on the table a little louder than Tim thought completely necessary. “Tim and I can take the kid out – find some things to break.” Tim was about to remind her that Damian hated both of them and this was a horrible idea unless it was _him_ she was looking to get broken, when Damian surprised him.

“I suppose I could,” he said. “I might be able to teach you how to do it properly, and you’ll find Drake’s new… _shoes_ … as helplessly flamboyant as I did.” Tim nearly choked on his coffee.

The three of them were hardly up from their seats when Dick finally sprung into action, his hand reaching out slightly towards Damian. 

“Maybe I should come along,” he offered, his voice less of a suggestion and more of a statement of fact he expected everyone else to understand. Tim was a little surprised at the offer, but he was all for the extra pair of eyes.

Damian, however, was having none of it. He pulled back, the anger he had been hiding flashing up to the surface. This _did_ surprise Tim; normally that look was reserved for _him_.

“Oh?” Damian questioned, his voice dripping venom. “Are you planning on regulating my role in everything now, Grayson?” Dick flinched, taking a step back like he’d been electrocuted.

“Damian, no, I…” but the younger boy had already turned his back in an almost dramatic fashion, moving to stand beside Stephanie.

“Let’s go Drake,” he said with a huff.

Tim moved to follow, mouthing a quick sorry to Dick. He wanted to actually say something, but he didn’t know what. Dick wasn’t used to being on the end of that kind of Damian Rage, and it was more than obvious it had hurt.

“Maybe Barb-” Tim tried to start, but the redhead cut him off, knowing exactly where he was headed.

“I’m good,” she said. “Cass is already helping me.” Tim didn’t miss the slight surprise that flitted through Cass’ eyes, but she said nothing. 

Once again, it was Jason who stepped up to settle the mood, sliding effortlessly out of his seat and shoving Dick almost playfully in the arm. 

“Looks like you’re stuck with me for the rest of the night then, Dickie.”

“Yeah,” Dick agreed dryly, eyes still trained on Damian’s back. He sighed heavily before turning to go settle their bill. Tim noticed the way Dick glanced at Barbara and the way she stanchly ignored him too. She nodded to Jason before turning herself around.

“Thanks, Tim,” she smiled at him. “I’ll be in touch.” As she headed toward the door, Damian and Steph followed close behind, Cass staying back a moment with Tim.

“He is up to something,” she whispered and Tim nodded his agreement, not needing to ask which “he” she was referring to. Damian was, without a doubt, concocting something in that devious little head of his – something that would be nothing but trouble. He turned his eyes to Jason.

“You’ll…?” he didn’t know how to finish, but Jason seemed to get it.

“Yeah,” he said, turning towards Dick. “I got him.”

Tim nodded. He was already exhausted, and really didn’t have the mental focus to try and figure out how he and Jason had made it through an almost meal without some kind of issue, but he’d take the win for now. He wanted to wait for Dick, to reassure him that everything was going to be fine, but Damian and Steph were already waiting with limited patience by the door. With a sigh he took off after them, the twelve on his watch face changing over to a detached one. He knew without a doubt, his night was only getting longer.

**\- - * - -**

This was not how Damian Wayne had envisioned his plan working out. He wasn’t sure _precisely_ when he had lost control of the situation, but there was no denying that he had, _somehow_ , made a few mistakes. Not long ago, he had been sitting with the bizarre hodgepodge of people his father had collected over the years in some shabby diner the rest of them all seemed to enjoy. He had been eating those ridiculous and insultingly miniaturized pancakes that Brown continually insisted on ordering for him. It was there that Barbara Gordon, who Father said he was _without question_ supposed to obey, informed him that there was a group of imbecilic meatheads who had hatched a plan to kidnap him. Him, _Damian Wayne_ , as though he were some simpering fatted calf – waiting around for a slaughtering. The very idea was completely ludicrous.

It was almost as absurd as everyone blithely entrusting his care and compliance to Drake and Brown. The pair had been far too easy to slip away from. Brown was so busy believing the best of him to see when he was planning something, and Drake thought he was intelligent enough to outthink him. It would have been laughable, if not for the predicament he found himself in now.

As he struggled with the rope currently binding his hands and elbows together, Damian was willing to admit that he had made a mistake; but probably because there was no one around to hear of his failure. He was well aware that when Richard, or Barbara, or God forbid, _Alfred_ , got a hold of him, he would be lectured. And all three of them would likely inform his father of his transgressions. That would be _unfortunate,_ particularly because Father had sat him down before leaving for his League mission, and Damian had agreed, albeit reluctantly, to be on his best behavior.

It hadn’t been difficult to find the men who were after him. Damian had made his way to the filthiest bar he could find, found a degenerate individual relieving himself behind a dumpster, and interrogated him. Glowering from the depths of his Robin hood, Damian had extracted valuable information – including that there was a hit out for him – _for Robin_ – as well. It was something his mind kept coming back to, but his thoughts were hazy. They had been since the pissing miscreant’s friends had snuck up behind him. Normally, five men wouldn’t have been impossible odds for Damian; with his speed and superior intelligence, it shouldn’t have been an issue. And it wouldn’t have been, until he felt the prick of a needle, and the slow, mind-numbing fog had conquered him.

“Uh-uh, niño,” another voice had scolded. “We can’t have you all scratched up.”

At the time, Damian had struggled to place the voice. But now, crammed into a slightly too small storage container, he was beginning to remember. As his thoughts swam, Damian found himself grappling with his anger too. He could feel his eyes stinging, but no matter what happened, he would not cry. Crying was for children not disciplined enough to control their own emotions. But with his cape, gloves, and utility belt missing, it was getting harder to feel in control. He cursed himself over and over again in several different languages for allowing this to happen. He felt it a small, somewhat useless, victory that he could still feel the mask plastered to his face. 

Damian reminded himself to keep his breathing even as he tried to loosen his bindings. He knew not to panic. While Brown and Drake were incompetent, he was confident that Gordon would soon realize he was missing and deploy the others for his extraction – if only so that she could kill him herself. It was unsettling at times how quickly she seemed to know things; he tried to reassure himself it wouldn’t be long now, but just in case, he began working harder against the ropes.

From his current position, and the apparent use of sedatives, there was no way of knowing how much time had passed. While his thoughts were starting to clear, it was only enough for the shame to burn through him. He could feel that his containment crate was moving, and started to run possible escape scenarios in his mind – which would have been easier if he could focus for more than a minute or two at a time. Damian was just about to try shifting his feet to the lid of his box when the metal top was lifted and a large hand wrapped itself around his throat.

“Now, now, niño. We can go easy, or hard.” Right. _Bane_. The masked man lifted him out easily. Damian’s flight or fight instinctively kicked in, his legs lashing out almost before he had mentally told them to. The hand only tightened.

“Careful pájaro. It’d be a shame for your brothers to find nothing but a corpse when they get here.” Damian stilled almost instantly, not because of the threat, but because of the mention of the others. His mind was trying desperately to put the pieces together, but it was like putting together a puzzle with a picture you’ve never seen before.

Damian knew not to underestimate Bane. The man was more than just his muscle, true, but to call the other Bats his _brothers_ hinted at something more.

“Mr. Bane, please.” A new voice from somewhere behind and just off to his left was enough to derail Damian’s thinking. “You really do need to treat our guest a bit more… How shall I say this? Gently. You know the limitations of our contract.” A man with sunken eyes and a worn-out suit glided into Damian's line of sight. Bane growled, but lowered him to the ground before releasing his throat, clamping his hand on the ropes knot at the center of his back instead.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the smaller man crooned, a smile twisting his face. “My name is Dr. Jonathan Crane.”

“ _Scarecrow_ ,” Damian spat, glad that the name at least, had come easily to him. The man’s smile twisted into a grimace as he lowered himself to Damian’s eye level, intelligently staying just out of kicking range.

“I really do prefer Dr. Crane,” he said. “I spent a good deal of time and money on those degrees. Regardless, your grandfather and a number of his associates have funneled quite a bit of money into some of my newest research, and as such I have to follow his rules. Ra's has been helpful in other ways too. He suggested that if I were to acquire _you_ , the perfect test subjects might make their way to me. And Mister Bane has been very accommodating, graciously sharing his island.”

_Of course,_ Damian thought. Of course Grandfather would be involved. The mess in his brain was starting to detangle; he started trying to bend the pieces to his will.

“Clearly, you’ve been misinformed, _Doctor_ ,” Damian hissed. “Batman is currently off world, so he won’t be coming by to play lab rat for you.” Faster than he would have expected, Crane shot out his hand, taking hold of Damian’s hair.

“You know, _Damian,_ ” he hissed, his mouth pressed too close to Damian’s ear. “I don’t think you quite understand. The sedative must still be causing you some issues. I never said I was after the Big Bad Bat.”

“Let go of me!” Damian lashed out, the heel of his foot connecting with Scarecrow’s shin. He didn’t have time to gloat before the man struck back, his open hand striking his face with a loud smack.

“Just think of the possibilities. All of you operate with a certain level of adrenaline – and what gets that adrenaline pumping like fear? Admit it, with a mind like yours, haven’t you wondered what Nightwing feared most? What better way to control him? Or the Hood? Isn’t he recently back from the dead? I bet his nightmares would be exquisite. Your grandfather favors the third boy though.” The villain was in full monologue now, and with Bane still restraining him, and his mind feeling muddled from the strike, Damian was forced to listen.

“Or even the girls,” he crowed. “I’d love to know more about the quiet one; I’d bet millions it’s tied into some deep rooted fears. Then again, I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on that smiling blonde. Often, I find it’s the cheerful ones hiding the most stunning trauma behind those sparkling eyes.”

Damian shook his head, trying to clear away the lingering haze. He focused on his breathing, trying to keep his face impassive. No matter his disdain for the others, he had to find a way out of this trap.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Scarecrow promised, pulling a syringe. “I’ll make sure you’re a part of this, and Ra’s was very clear, you’ll be the control.” He slid the needle into the skin exposed by Damian’s missing gloves. “You might find yourself experiencing some drowsiness and extreme confusion; this sedative is one of my more ingenious mixes. You’ll be experiencing bouts of unconsciousness, but no delusions. It should be enough to keep you…” He paused long enough to push the plunger down. “Docile.”

The fire was back, chasing the ice from Damian’s veins. He tried to fight it, the shadows blurring his vision. He tried desperately to remember his training; he should be able to fight this. As his eyes betrayed him, fluttering shut against his will, he knew. He knew without a doubt that this wasn’t going to end well.

**\- - * - -**

Tim was almost always tired. So tired, in fact, that he considered himself an expert on the different stages of being tired. Ever since Damian had showed up, he had discovered at least five or six new ways in which a person could be tired. Tonight he had discovered a whole new level. He would have laughed if it wasn’t such a terrifying situation.

Not a single thing had really gone as he had planned tonight, so as he made his way to Jason’s apartment, mentally rehearsing what he was going to say, he knew it was a lost cause. He had seen Dick angry before, but it had never really directed at him. He was looking forward to exactly none of this, and even if the little prince would never believe him, Tim was worried about Damian.

Tim propelled himself though the top window, and tried not to jump too high when he came face to face with Jason Todd lazily pointing a gun at him.

“This is your idea of security?” he squeaked, everything he had planned to say blanking from his memory.

“Calm down,” Jason insisted, setting the gun on the coffee table. “My finger was never on the trigger and this one only has rubber pellets.”

Tim wasn’t sure if that was actually supposed to make him feel better – _it did not_ – but he had learned continuing to argue with Jason was a more pointless task than arguing with Damian. _Damian_.

“Where’s the kid?” Dick asked. He hadn’t bothered to change back into his Nightwing armor, but the duffle bag was sitting at his feet. _Good_ , Tim thought. He was going to need it.

“Gone,” Tim confessed, refusing to meet their eyes. God he hoped Steph was having better luck. “He intentionally gave us the slip.”

“What?” Dick asked as Jason cursed, both of them already beginning to move. “How long has he been gone? Did you scope out the area? Why didn’t you call for backup?” Dick rattled off, not leaving long enough time in between questions for Tim to answer. He was already striping out of his civvies and hurrying back into the uniform. Jason just kept swearing under his breath, walking around the room and filling his clothes with weapons.

“He just… there was a mugging and he took charge; you know it’s easier to just let him,” Tim said when Dick finally gave him an opening. “We were over by the shipping district. Steph and I looked for him for an hour. There was nothing. And Dick, I swear he planned it! He—”

“I believe you, Tim,” Dick said with a half-smile that did nothing to comfort Tim’s frayed nerves.

“The kid’s a sneaky little fuck, I’ll give him that much,” Jason added. “Stupid as hell, though.” Dick nodded, finally back into his full uniform. He scrubbed his hands over his face with a groan.

“Steph is on her way to Barbara now. I know we should have called, I just…” Tim didn’t even know what he was going to say, but was saved by Dick’s stream of curses – or at least what Tim assumed were curses, because they were not in English or any other of the four languages he spoke, or at least understood.

Tim watched as Dick and Jason shared a look – a conversation he wasn’t invited to be a part of playing out before him. It ended in Jason shrugging, and Dick flipping open the computer on his wrist. Maps with different overlays began popping up one right after another, words steaming on the left hand side faster than Tim could read backwards. He moved to stand next to the two older boys, hating how he still felt like a kid when he stood in between them. In his defence, Jason made Dick seem small too.

“Uh, guys?” he questioned, starting to pick up the gist of what the two of them had decided upon silently by watching the screens head on. “We need to call Oracle.”

“We got this, Timmy.” Jason waved him off dismissively. “Let the grownups handle it.” Dick glanced up at Jason briefly, but didn’t say anything, which – _if Tim was honest_ – probably hurt more than Jason’s taunt.

Before, Tim had known how to talk to Dick. He’d known how to fight side-by-side with him, to make suggestions without stumbling over his own words – even if he was second guessing himself the whole time. When he’d been gone, Tim had cracked a little. For a while, he hadn’t known how to be Robin without a Nightwing to coach him – but he had figured it out. Becoming _Red Robin_ when the little goblin had showed up had been a test, but Tim had passed it. He was good at this job, no matter what he felt like right now.

“We need to call Barbara,” he repeated, this time with more conviction, and it was enough to get Dick to look up at _him_.

“Timmy,” his older brother whispered, his blue eyes pinning him in place. “I need you to send us into dark mode.”

“That is the opposite of what I just said,” Tim spluttered, disbelieving. Not only _not_ calling Barbara, but actively trying to hide from her? Did Dick seriously have a death wish?

“I know,” he responded. “I know what I’m asking you to do.”

“But why me?” Tim demanded. Dick’s hands stilled at the keys as he took a deep breath.

“Babs knows my signature too well,” he admitted. Tim knew it was true; he’d heard the stories. When the two of them were younger they used to race each other, building and breaking Bruce’s security systems. “And as she likes to remind me, I’m out of practice. You, on the other hand, will be able to keep her locked out at least long enough for it to matter.”

“I’m not better than her,” Tim argued, but Dick just shrugged.

“Well you’re definitely better than me, and she won’t be expecting it.” Tim turned as Jason whistled at Dick’s confession.

“So what you’re saying…” Tim hedged. “What you’re saying is that you’re exploiting the fact that Barbara trusts me?” Tim knew he was being manipulated. He was being asked to pick a side, and he absolutely hated it. This was going to end horribly.

“That’s a little evil, Dickie,” Jason added, buying Tim another breath’s worth of time. “I’m kinda impressed.”

“I’m just trying to fix this,” Dick said finally, the sound of defeat in his voice so thick Tim wasn’t sure which “ _this_ ” Dick was referring to. Despite all the warning bells going off in his head, he agreed, scrambling his, Dick’s, and Jason’s tracking signals.

“ _Nerds…_ ” Jason muttered, turning to walk deeper into his apartment as the two of them worked at their pop-up screens. A loud crash about ten seconds later had Tim reaching for his bow staff as he spun towards the sound, only to see Jason in the process of loading up his arsenal. Tim noted the gun with rubber bullets was _not_ one of the ones currently decorating Jason’s body.

“Uh…Jason?” Tim asked nervously as the bigger man slowly, deliberately, pulled a clip out of a pistol with a sliver slider. Jason spared him a quick glance before looking away to ensure the clip was fully loaded before pushing it back in with a clack.

“Can I help you, Timmy?” He asked, shoving the aforementioned Jason-approved pistol into the back of his pants.

“Do you really think you’re going to need three guns?” Tim asked, quickly looking away and back at his screen.

“Five guns, Timmy. I have five guns,” Jason informed him with a smirk, opening the front of his jacket to reveal a second set of holsters tucked under his armpits.

“Tone it down, Jay,” Dick warned, not even bothering to look up from his work. Tim, now finished with his assignment, did not miss the full-on eye roll Jason executed, even if it’s intended target did.

“Right,” Jason said with a laugh. “Because between my charming personality, your ass, and Timmy’s traumatizing fear of the female body, this mission is bound to be successful. As long as Damian’s haughty air of superiority hasn’t set him free by the time we get there.”

Tim choked indignantly. He wasn’t afraid of girls! He and Steph were just taking it slow – just like he had with his first girlfriend. He was about to tell Jason to fuck off – without actually using those words – when Dick’s excited whoop stopped him.

“Found him!” he yelled triumphantly. Both Tim and Jason moved quickly to stand beside him, following Dick’s finger as it moved across the screen.

“Is that…?” Jason asked, squinting.

“It keeps flickering,” Tim added, beginning to worry his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Yeah, they’re trying to cloak it,” Dick agreed. “But Damian is currently beta testing Bruce’s newest update for tracking.”

“Does the kid know that?” Jason questioned, his eyes following up the map.

“No,” Tim and Dick said at the same time.

“Right. Fuck, I really hate that hellhole.”

Tim couldn’t bring himself to say the name of the godforsaken island out loud. But it was the only thing the blip of Damian’s signal was heading toward. And if he was heading towards Santa Prisca…it meant Bane was involved.

“At top speed, that would be, what four hours?” he asked, looking to Dick.

“Give or take,” Dick agreed. “And they have a head start. We’re going to need the jet.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Jason asked, slipping a small knife, which he seemed to have magically acquired, into the top of his boot. Tim wanted to try, just one last time, to get them see a little bit of sense.

“We really should…”

“We can handle this, Timmy,” Dick interrupted, resting a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“But we need a plan,” he stressed. “Dick, you’re the one who taught me that. Without one… things blow up.”

“You want me to bring the explosives?” Jason asked, taking the absolutely wrong thing from Tim’s pleas. And that made sense. Everything Jason did, Tim understood. Well, not really _understood_ , but none of it was surprising. Jason was the hothead, the one who rushed into danger headlong and shooting, and if they were lucky, he’d ask some questions on his way out. But Dick was supposed to be different! He was supposed to strategize, have a plan for when the first one failed.

“We’ve got this, Timmy,” Dick insisted. “We’ll have the flight to iron things out, but they went too far this time. Bane and whoever else is with him. Damian is eleven.” Tim could feel the pieces that Dick wasn’t saying. Both of the eldest Batboys had been kidnapped in their tenures as Robin. In his first year, Two-Face had gotten his hands on Dick and beaten him within an inch of his life with a bat. And everyone knew what happened to Jason; it was a cautionary tale straight out of hell.

“Fine,” he conceded finally. The smirk that crossed Jason’s face made his skin crawl. It made him surer than anything that he was going to regret this. If Tim had thought he was tired before, he knew that today was going to show him yet another level. He shook his head and tried to reassure himself that trusting Dick and Jason was not going to be the biggest mistake of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading - your comments, kudos, and bookmarks are so appreciated! Millenniumrobin and I love seeing them so much! We appreciate the heck out of everyone who's come back to check this one out (particularly those of you who have been with us since our FF days!). And to the new people - welcome! and _thank you_ for your support 💛 You can find me over on tumblr as gothamsgrace where I post mostly bat-stuff and sneak peeks for these stories. Again thank you so much for your support!!


	3. Chapter Three: Bad Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oracle sends Steph and Cass to recruit some help while she talks to a source of her own, while the boys find their wayward Robin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone - thank you so much for all of your support so far! This chapter strongly features our ladies - but don't worry, the boys finish off the chapter. Mild TW for Damian being drugged. No song recommendation for this one, but don't worry, there will be more. Thank you so much for reading 💛

**Chapter Three: Bad Ideas  
** [ _Stephanie_ | _Barbara_ | _Dick_ ]

Stephanie was used to things going sideways. She considered problem solving to be her superpower. When things went wrong, she fixed them. And if she couldn’t fix them, she kept the people around her going until _they_ could fix them. It’s what made her _endearing_ . Tonight had been a test of her skills, and she had a sneaking suspicion it would only be getting worse from here on out. She bit down on her lip as she made her way back to the Clock Tower, very much alone when she absolutely should _not_ have been.

They had left the little punk alone for, literally five minutes. _Less than five_ , and somehow he had still managed to vanish into the night without any trace. She and Tim had spent the better part of an hour scouring the area for him, for a hint of the littlest bird with a _freaking hit_ out on his head – and they had found exactly nothing. It was like the kid had gone all _League of Shadows_ on them and evaporated into the ether. Granted, if anyone was going to be able to do that it _was_ Damian Wayne, but _still._

She stopped herself before she could scrub her hands over her face. She was making a concerted effort to _not_ pick up that particular Bat-tick; the older three did it _all the time_ . She couldn’t decide if it was adorable or disgusting and wondered if they were all _aware_ that they did it.

Admittedly, Stephanie knew that she should have called Oracle sooner; like an hour ago _sooner_. But Tim hadn’t wanted to. He had been convinced that Damian couldn’t have gotten far – and that they’d be able to find him “ _no sweat_.” Well, she was sweating now. While she knew Dick and Jason, who Tim was currently en route to, were not going to be _happy_ , she was the one heading back to tell Oracle. And Babs was going to be _pissed_.

She should call her, just rip the Band-Aid off in one go. Tim had talked about waiting though, just so that no one went off and did anything stupid. He figured that if they waited, just a little bit longer, there would be time to regroup and form a plan. He promised to smooth things over with Dick. But the further she got from Tim, the more this particular plan sounded like a load of crap. Stephanie took a deep breath, launched her grappling gun across the street, and hit the call button on her gauntlet.

“Oracle?” she almost whispered into her communicator.

“I read you, Batgirl. What’s up?”

Stephanie’s stomach dropped. It did that just a little whenever Babs called _her_ Batgirl, particularly when she felt like she was letting her down. She also hated how tired Barbara sounded. They had been so close to this night being over, and now…now it was going to last forever.

“He tricked us O,” she squeaked before clearing her voice. Part of being Batgirl was owning up to the bad news too. “Robin found a diversion and he ghosted. We looked for him, but there’s nothing.” The silence that followed felt like a bucket of cold water poured down her spine.

“Right,” Barbara finally said with a sigh. “What’s your ETA?”

“I’m almost to you, less than ten minutes.”

“Right,” Barbara repeated. Stephanie could hear her starting back to work at her keyboard; she felt a little dismissed, but it was about what she deserved. She had had one job…and well…

“Hey,” Barbara said, her voice a bit strong in Steph’s ears. “This is not your fault, so don’t even start down that path. Is Red Robin with you?” Leave it to Babs to say what she needed to hear.

“No, we split up. I’m on my way to you, Red Robin is on his way to Nightwing and Hood. He wants to explain it to them in person, then we’ll regroup and – ”An impressive stream of curses cut Steph off mid-thought. “What? What is it?” She heard Barbara sigh heavily on the other end.

“Just get back to me, quick as you can. Oracle out.”

Not long after her comm-link went quiet, Steph's boots landed on the roof of the Clock Tower. Normally, she’d take a minute out here; this was one her favorite views in all the city. But tonight was not that kind of night. She turned towards the seemingly open window, and lifted the lenses on her mask so that the retina scanner could do its job. If she bad been coming in from the ground floor, she would have had to go through three levels of security just to get into the living space. And even more if she wanted to make it up to the secret top-floor platform where Babs spent her nights watching over the city. Up here, it was simpler: scan, wait for the electric current to disarm, and hop on through.

Cassandra stood just inside the shadows; she nodded at her, a finger held up to her lips. The smaller girl was already suited up, her mask in her free hand. It was both a greeting and a warning. Whatever Barbara was staring at on her left screen was not something Steph wanted to interrupt.

“They’re offline,” the redhead said finally.

“No,” Steph gasped. “No. Tim said we would do this together.” She whipped her cowl off, and moved closer. “He said…” But Barbara shook her head, turning to look at her.

“I wouldn’t take it personal,” she said sympathetically. “I doubt it was his call.”

“To them, he’d give in,” Cass offered solemnly.

“They can’t possibly be collectively that stupid,” Stephanie insisted. “Why on earth…?”

“To prove something?” Cass asked, and Barbara nodded, exhaustion evident on her face.

“Jason has never needed a plan, just a goal – and Dick?” The redhead almost smiled. “He doesn’t always think things through when he’s angry. And they made this personal. We don’t exactly have a good track record when the bad guys go after family.”

It took an act of will to keep Stephanie from looking down at Barbara’s wheelchair. For as long as she’d actually _known_ the older girl, Barbara had been in that chair. She knew the incredibly abbreviated version of events that had led to it: a mission, The Joker, and that was that. No one ever offered to tell her more, and despite being a part of this “family” for more than two years, she had no plans on asking.

“So they’re going for reckless?” Steph heard herself asking, some of Barbara’s fatigue slipping into her own words. All she got in response was another one of Barbara’s heavy sighs.

“We will find them,” Cass offered, moving to step up next to Stephanie.

“We will,” Barbara agreed, already turning her attention back to her computers. “It’ll be a minute or two; Dick has a nasty habit of scrambling his GPS tracker when he doesn’t want to be found. He’s been doing it since we were kids. He’s stressed so it’ll be sloppy.”

Stephanie could feel her body starting to tremble, unable to shake the growing guilt. She watched intently, feeling completely useless, as Barbara typed away at one of her keyboards. Not for the first time, she envied the way Cass always seemed to remain completely calm; the girl next to her was a complete statue.

“Damn him,” Barbara hissed after a minute, her fingers coming up from the keyboard to massage her temples. “ _2,008_. When we do find them, I might kill him.”

“Not as sloppy as you thought?” Steph asked, rocking forward. She was used to Babs randomly calling out numbers when she was frustrated with Dick. Rumor was, she was keeping a running tally of all the times he screwed up. It did make Steph a little concerned there might be a list going for all of them – because if she had one, it had gotten higher tonight.

Barbara shook her head, switching over to another monitor.

“I don’t think Dick did this one. I know his signature almost as well as I know my own. I think he talked Tim into it.” She minimized three open windows on her screen before turning around to face them. “I want some backup on this.”

“The team?” Cass asked. The face Barbara made in reply struck that idea right out.

“I’d like to keep this a little quieter,” she offered. “A friend of ours, who I know has the time, might be able to help talk some sense into the older two.”

\---

Twenty minutes later, Stephanie _really_ wished that Barbara had just called her friend before sending her and Cass out across town. It wasn’t Crime Alley, but this was most definitely not the nice part of Gotham. Not that calling would have done them any good.

“I wish we were using the front door,” she whispered as Cass slid open the recently picked lock of the window. The apartment they were currently breaking into could only be described as bare. It was clean enough, but practically empty. Stephanie managed to get both of her feet through the window and onto the floor before being greeted with a pair of paws pressing into her thigh. With his tongue hanging out, the gray pit bull was hardly what Steph would call intimidating.

“Hey, baby,” she whispered, lowering her body all the way to the ground to sit with him so she could scratch behind his ears. “Where’s your mama?” While the dog had greeted her warmly, if not for Cass coming in and knocking her to the ground, Steph likely would have found her shoulder impaled by the super _unfriendly_ arrow that whizzed by her and buried itself into the wall.

“You should probably knock first,” came the very angry voice of the human still pointing a crossbow at them. Cass was the first to hold up both of her hands, a faint smile on her normally passive face. Slowly, she pointed both index fingers to her chest where the thin outline of a yellow bat was clearly visible.

“Yeah, well it’s still after two in the morning,” the woman replied with a sigh, finally moving to put the crossbow away. “You know nothing good happens this late.”

“Or early,” Cass offered, reaching a hand down to help Stephanie up to her feet.

“Your people skills could use some practice, Artemis,” Steph said. “You want me to pry the arrow out?” she offered, a bit more comfortable now that they’d gotten past the hard part.

“No, you can leave it. You two want something to drink?” Their now-hostess offered, her back to them as she got down three cups from the cupboard.

In the moonlight, because Artemis had chosen to not turn on the lights, Steph watched her move. She was dressed in a sports bra and leggings, her blonde hair was cut to her shoulders and shaved off on the right-hand side. Glancing towards the couch, Steph could see the blanket tossed across it; Artemis hadn’t been sleeping in her bed again.

“Oracle sent us,” Cass stated, breaking the momentary quiet that had fallen.

“Well, I figured it wasn’t a social call. And why didn’t the mighty Oracle just hack into my comm system if she needed me? Or you know, _call_?” Cass seemed momentarily stumped, but Stephanie knew the answer to this one.

“Artemis, be real. You haven’t worn a comm link in like six months. And I bet if you bothered to turn your phone on, you’ve probably got a voice mail or two.” The blonde smirked at the accusation.

“I keep forgetting that I like you, blondie.”

“Which is probably why you almost shot me with an arrow.”

“One, if I had meant to hit you, you’d be bleeding right now. And two, I thought you were someone else who would have deserved the scare.”

“Uh-huh,” Steph said. “My point about people skills remains, and since your company’s not here, we could really use your help.”

Artemis turned away from them, moving towards her bedroom. “Talk while I change.”

And so Stephanie talked, her voice quick as she gave Artemis a rundown of this evening’s catastrophes. By the time she was done, Artemis emerged from her room, her black and orange Tigress uniform on and armed.

“Well,” she said. “Let’s go get them, so I can help Babs beat the shit out of them.” 

Stephanie smiled. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but hope that things were starting to look up.

**\- - * - -**

Not for the first time, Barbara Gordon wished that people had just listened to her. Her life really would be so much easier if they did. Frankly, _their_ lives would be easier too – but that was beside the point. She ran a hand through her hair as her mind began retracing the events of the night so far, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that everything had gone to hell. It was hard because there were just so many possibilities to choose from. Over and over again, she saw the words spelling out danger coming up on her screen; she had known it was all too easy at the time. _Shit_ . She didn’t have time for this; it was masochistic and self-indulgent to live in the past. Right now they, _she_ , needed a plan.

“Remember the facts,” she whispered to herself, allowing the memories to wash over her, but only for useful information, focusing the tide. She zeroed in on the words again: _Wayne. Reward. Ransom._ He’d been taken in uniform, not a suit and tie. Her stomach turned into a pit of ice as she started running through new possibilities. Who _knew?_ Occam’s razor pointed her in a single direction, some of the other words flashing back through her mind: _Little Demon, Nightmare Venom, investor_ . Damian had always been more than just Bruce’s son. The ever-present threat of Ra’s or Talia had hung over them from the moment Damian showed up at the manor. And they certainly had enough money to be considered _investors_ , but what would either of them have to do with whatever _Nightmare Venom_ was supposed to be?

Barbara glanced towards her keyboard, her _what ifs_ kicking into full gear. Before she could change her mind, she punched herself into the heavily encrypted communications system. The one she wasn’t _technically_ supposed to be calling but…

“Selina?” Barbara asked when the line finally clicked on.

“You know…” the woman on the other end hummed. “I was specifically promised that this line was untraceable.” There was some rustling in the background that ended with the sound of a closed door. Barbara couldn’t help the snort of laughter that flew from her lips.

“Please, B hasn’t been able to keep me out of anything since I was sixteen.”

“And yet, he still thinks he can,” Selina mused.

Barbara knew that on the list of people she could or _should_ be looping in on the current crisis, Selina Kyle would not have been in most peoples’ top five. But the truth was the reformed cat-burglar had been slowly moving her way up Barbara’s list for years. For one thing, she would help without trying to take over. For another, Selina understood the Bats in a way that even other heroes couldn’t.

“He’s gone again, isn’t he?” Selina asked, interrupting Barbara’s train of thought. She couldn’t help but notice the disappointment.

“Yeah,” she conceded. “The League – ”

“It doesn’t matter,” Selina said, stopping her. “There’s always something. There always will be.” Barbara wanted to disagree with her and say there would come a time when Bruce could let go of things, but Selina wasn’t someone she lied to.

“How are you kids holding up?” Selina asked, breaking the slightly uncomfortable silence that had taken over. At twenty-three, a part of Barbara resented being called a kid, but she knew Selina wasn’t diminishing her abilities; the moniker was meant with affection, rather than dismissiveness. Barbara wanted to tell her everything calmly, focus in on the facts like she had _tried_ to do with Dick, but she was exhausted.

“There’s a situation,” she blurted. “There was a kidnapping plot floating around the Dark Web and –”

“Is it…?” Selina asked, stopping her. The woman’s disappointment in Bruce quickly replaced with panic.

“No, no the convent is safe,” Barbara assured her. She waited to hear Selina’s relieved exhale before continuing. “But it’s Damian, and now he’s missing.”

The sound of breaking glass came from the other end followed by Selina’s creative cursing.

“Which _him_?” she asked.

“The threats were against Damian, but he went MIA as Robin.”

“His mother?” Selina hissed. Barbara knew that Selina was not Talia al Ghul’s biggest fan. She respected that it wasn’t jealousy that drove the hatred. Instead, Selina hated Talia for what the woman had done to her own son; for stripping the boy of a childhood and dooming him to a life of violence and blood before he could even walk.

“It’s possible,” Barbara acknowledged. “But I think there’s something else at play here. Have you ever heard of _Nightmare Venom_?”

“No, but it doesn’t sound pleasant. Do you need me to ask around?” Barbara hated asking Selina to pull on old contacts, but she didn’t have a lot of options at the moment.

“If you can,” she said finally. “I just have a feeling they walked into something.”

“They?” Selina asked, not missing a beat. “Which _theys_ are we worried about?”

“The ones who absolutely should know better.”

“Ah, the older two then.”

“And they roped Tim into it too,” Barbara added, feeling her energy draining by the second. She heard the purr of a cat and the rustling of fabric in the background.

“I’m on it,” Selina promised, conviction hardening her words. For all her flaws, Barbara knew the woman cared for this mangled family, and that, above anything else, was why she trusted her. “The usual place in an hour?”

“Yeah,” Barbara agreed. “We’ll compare notes.”

“Mmmm, good. Catwoman out.”

With a sigh, Barbara tucked back into her computers. It was easier for her when she could shut off her emotions. She still hadn’t reached Bruce’s level of detachment, but sometimes she could get frighteningly close. For now, she would channel that; she would feel again when she could afford to.

\---

Barbara was glad that the “regular meeting place,” a bench in the park, was only about five minutes from the Clock Tower as she maneuvered herself among the potholes of Gotham City’s sidewalks. It was late enough, or early enough, that sane and rational people were locked behind their doors. Also, this particular part of the park didn’t seem to attract the more unsavory denizens of Gotham. The creeping chill of fall clung to her as she pulled up alongside the empty bench. Not too far away, Selina Kyle was still walking towards her. The older woman was dressed in all black and blessedly carrying a pair of coffees.

“Somehow you always know,” Barbara said, taking the offered cup.

“Please, you always need it,” Selina scoffed. “And you sounded drained,” she added, her voice just a hair softer. She pulled a slim flash drive from her pocket before sitting down on the bench. “What did you find?”

“Pieces,” Barbara said in frustration. “It looks like Dr. Crane has been working on a new formula, which, of course, I won’t have an antidote for yet.”

“I heard that too,” Selina agreed. “But this Venom thing? Word on the street is that Bane is making moves as well.” Barbara never asked where she got her information from, and Selina never offered. It hadn’t let her down yet, so…

“Anything about the backer?” Barbara asked. Selina shook her head wearily.

“Nothing concrete – but you know that.” Barbara just nodded, wishing they had more to go on. “As much as I dislike her, if the al Ghul money is backing this, I don’t think she knows. She’d already be trying to contact Bruce.”

“I found reports of a small private plane leaving Gotham Airport about twenty minutes after Damian ditched his babysitters,” Barbara added, doing her best to focus on the data. “I have a pretty good guess as to where it’s heading.”

“Santa Prisca?” Selina offered, handing the flash drive over. “Here, updated layouts.” Barbara took the device and slipped it into her pocket.

“Those idiots are going in blind,” she said, shaking her head.

“Wait,” Selina paused, cocking her head to the side. “You can’t get a hold of them?”

Barbara shook her head, taking a long sip of coffee to try and hide how much it bothered her. The computer had been running a decoding program to try and crack the boys’ comm system for the last hour and a half; Tim had obviously been practicing.

“Well damn,” Selina sighed. “I didn’t realize they were collectively _that_ stupid.” Her hand reached out to Barbara’s empty one, squeezing her fingers lightly before letting go. Barbara appreciated the gesture, but she looked away all the same.

“Dick hasn’t exactly been…” She stopped, her eyes attempting to explode the pavement in front of her. “He…”

“I know,” Selina whispered, saving Barbara from having to delve into her own emotions. “It always takes Bruce a while to come back to himself when he’s been gone, or I have.” Selina offered her a sad smile. “And it doesn’t help you guys figure out all your roles when Bruce is going off world for weeks at a time.”

Barbara laughed humorlessly, the hand not holding the coffee curling into a fist, nails digging half-moons into her palm.

“You’ve got one avoiding the reasons he ran away,” she whispered.

“Another still dealing with the side effects of death _and_ resurrection,” Selina continued for her. “The third convinced he isn’t enough or ever will be– and finally Damian, who thinks he needs to prove to the whole world he’s worthy of being Bruce’s son,” she finished, her own hands clenched into fists.

“Which is why you – ” Barbara started, only for Selina to stop her with a shake of her head.

“I won’t do this to a child. This life isn’t fair.” Selina stood up abruptly, her eyes looking towards the rooftops, as if Batman would be there, just out of her line of sight. “You’ve got a mess ahead of you,” she said, finally turning to look back at Barbara.

“Thank you, Selina. For everything.”

“I didn’t do much,” the woman laughed sadly. “But if you need me, call. I’ll come find you.”

Barbara watched as she left, all hips down the paved path of the park. She fingered the flash drive in her pocket before turning away. A look at her watch let her know that the girls would be back soon, hopefully with Artemis in tow. Barbara began her way back to the tower, mind already putting pieces of a plan together, lists and goals, anything to keep the “what ifs” at bay.

**\--*--**

In his tenure on this earth, Dick had become something of a connoisseur of bad days. And, as an expert, he could say with one hundred percent confidence that this one was rapidly descending into nightmare territory. He had no idea how everything had spiraled away from him so quickly. One minute he’d been making headway connecting with the littlest Robin. He was trying desperately to do better with him. It was his third chance at being a big brother and he was determined to do it right this time. They had just been flying through the streets of Gotham on Dick’s motorcycle. The kid had been laughing, even if he’d never admit it, and Dick had relished the feeling of unadulterated joy. It had given him just a little bit of hope. Then they'd gotten to the diner and received the news. And any progress he'd been making with Barbara had been thrown in a pile, doused in gasoline, and set on fire. With a flamethrower. Then nuked from orbit for good measure. Even after they found Damian, and they absolutely would, Barbara was probably going to stop talking to him _again_.

He finished throwing the eco-covering over their bikes before following the other two up the mostly-hidden back path down to the Batcave. It had been Tim’s idea to steal – no _borrow_ – the Batjet, and it had been Dick’s executive decision to break in. He didn’t want to have to tell Alfred that they had managed to lose Damian. He hardly wanted to deal with it himself; having to look Alfred in the eye would have been next to impossible. It had always been his job to help keep the younger ones safe, and so far, his track record was crap. Despite traveling with him for the better part of two and half years, Dick still couldn’t shake his guilt when it came to Jason – he wasn’t willing to risk Damian’s story following Jason’s path.

“Careful,” Tim called back to him, breaking him out of his own thoughts. “There are a couple more sensors back here now.” Dick followed Tim’s pointing fingers, watching with adoration as the kid moved to disarm Bruce’s security system.

“Is that going to trigger some kind of shutdown warning?” Jason asked.

“ _Please,_ ” Tim answered, not even sparing a glance. “I built them.” Dick tried not to laugh at the exaggerated eye roll. He felt bad for Tim; the kid had really grown into his own the last few years and now he had to compete with the arrogance of Damian and the snark of Jason. To his credit, Dick thought Tim actually handled Jason pretty well.

“Enough,” Dick interrupted before Jason could throw back something scathing. He walked over to the security panel built into the rock face. “Override RG-4,” he said with a confidence he didn’t feel. He hadn’t tried to break into any of Bruce’s systems since he’d been home, so the glowing green light was a pleasant surprise.

“I can’t believe that still works!” Tim’s astonishment caused Dick to smirk. He was willing to take the small miracles where he could.

“You two tech-heads done?” Jason baited, pushing past them. “Some of us have some more impressive work to do.” Jason made his way directly for the jet hanger.

“Jason?” Tim called, having to quicken his pace to keep up with the other boy’s longer gait. “How sure are you that you can hotwire the jet?”

“ _Please,_ ” Jason answered back, matching Tim’s tone from before. He marched up the gangway and into the cockpit without breaking stride.

Dick and Tim held back a minute, each of them restocking some of their supplies.

“Dick,” Tim started tentatively. “I really think – ”

“I know, Tim,” he answered. “But we can handle this.” Dick knew he sounded more confident than he felt. Just like he knew Tim was right, but he needed to do this. “You ready?” he asked, starting his way towards the jet, hoping Tim wouldn’t hesitate again. Because if he asked to call in backup one more time, Dick knew he’d probably give in.

When they got up to the jet, Jason was still on his back beneath the dash.

“He keeps trying to update the system,” he informed them, his voice slightly muffled by the machinery.

“Can you still do it?” Dick asked, eyes scanning over the controls.

“Something no woman has ever had to ask me,” Jason retorted, the sound of sparking making Dick just a little anxious. But within a minute, the system’s operational lights were flashing on the controls, and Jason was hauling himself up from the floor.

“Jason,” Tim said with barely contained awe. “How many times have you hotwired something of Bruce’s?”

“This month?” Jason bit back a smirk. “The regular cars are a piece of cake – the new tech stuff is harder though.”

“Teach me?” Tim asked, strapping himself into a seat.

Jason snorted: “Yeah, okay.”

“He’s serious,” Dick said offhandedly as he maneuvered around Jason to get into the pilot’s seat. The bigger boy moved with an annoyed look, but said nothing as he too strapped in.

Dick let his hands gloss over the controls, plugging in the coordinates and finishing up the preflight check before opening the hangar doors. Without a word the docking station rotated, allowing him a clear shot at the sky.

“I fucking hate Santa Prisca,” Jason muttered as they took off. Dick couldn’t help agreeing and he had a guess this mission wasn’t going to make him like the island any more. He just hoped they’d make it in time to prevent any lasting damage to the youngest Robin.

\---

Four hours was a very long time to be stuck in one place. Once upon a time, Dick had struggled to sit still during hour-long stakeouts; his life had been simpler then. He had recommended that they all try and get some sleep, but none of them had. Tim had spent half of the time checking his equipment and the supplies on the plane. The other half, he had been asking questions, making theories about what they were going to be walking into, and all around driving Jason insane. Dick had threatened four separate times to use the ejector seats if the two of them didn’t stop going after each other. It had shut Tim up; Jason had dared him to do it.

Dick took the flight off of manual as the edges of the island came into view. He began switching over into stealth mode and preparing for as quiet a landing as he could manage. As he did, a small green light began flashing in his peripheral.

“Shit,” he swore, making Tim jump in his seat. Jason, completely unaffected, finished putting his pistols away after what had to have been his twentieth check of them.

“Language, Dick,” he mocked.

“Jason, see that green light?” he prompted, ignoring the taunt. Jason nodded at him, as if it were hard to miss and he thought Dick was an idiot. “I need you to punch it.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” 

“Break it, Jay.” The man in question shrugged, checked to make sure his plated gloves were properly secured, and smashed his fist into the blinking panel box.

“Not that I really care, but what did I just break?”

“I think it was a tracking system activated by entering stealth mode,” Tim offered moving over to inspect the now broken pieces.

“You think, or you know?” Dick asked, trying very hard to keep the accusation from his voice. Just because he was frustrated by how much tech Barbara had been adding to Bruce’s equipment didn’t mean he should take it out on Tim. “Prep for landing,” he advised before an answer could be given.

“Don’t worry, Timmy,” Jason said as he strapped himself back in. “Babs will one hundred percent blame Dick for this – and maybe me. She won’t come after you.” Dick rolled his eyes at this assertion, but he knew it was true. “Did you know she’s got a running tally for all the times Dickie has messed up by doing the exact opposite of what she told him?”

“ _Jason_ ,” Dick warned, hands on the controls as he began their descent.

“What?” Jason protested. “You know it’s true.”

Dick just sighed heavily, bringing the jet level with the treetops as he looked for the best place to land. From previous missions, he was familiar enough with the terrain. The factory was at the heart of the island and he swung the jet around to a small clearing a little more than a mile from it. If Damian was injured, the hike back through the jungle would be a pain, but between him and Jason, they’d manage it.

The three of them camouflaged the jet as best they could, Tim making very specific notes in his computer about where it was located before they started their ways through the dense trees and undergrowth. Dick was already sweating, and he had no idea how Jason managed to keep his leather jacket and helmet on. They stayed silent, communicating only in hand signals as they took turns making sure that the coast was clear before advancing further.

They made good time as they moved closer to the factory. They’d all been on this godforsaken island before. Dick's mind drifted back to one his firsts; what had been given as a simple recon mission turned into the entire venom factory being destroyed. He smiled. Jason would have been proud. _Speaking of…_

“Hood, guns away,” Dick whispered as the sound of metal on leather broke him from his thoughts.

“I didn’t let you fly me over a thousand miles to only get to punch some very bad men,” Jason hissed back. Dick grabbed his shoulder, turning Jason around to face him.

“No. We came this far to get Robin back, and I’m not going to have you running in, guns blazing, alerting every thug on this island to our presence.” He didn’t appreciate the way Jason tried to stare him down. While the helmet was meant to be intimidating, it wasn’t anything Dick hadn’t dealt with before. He noticed Tim off to the side, watching the two of them anxiously.

“Killjoy,” Jason finally muttered, holstering his guns and turning away. “You never let me have any fun.”

The rebuilt factory came into view as they made their way up a small rise; morning sunlight glinted off high windows and steel reinforcements. Dick instantly began counting the security cameras; only two stood out to him. It was less security than he was expecting, but he wasn’t going to complain. He pulled up the computer at his wrist, starting a secondary scan. Slowly, Dick started remotely disabling the motion sensors when Jason tapped him with the back of his hand.

“Three guys,” he whispered. “Looks like fifteen minute intervals.” Dick nodded, shaking his shoulders to release the tension. He hadn’t realized he’d been working long enough for Jason to be able to pick up a pattern.

“The door on the left gives us the best way in,” Tim added, his own computer up, showing first floor schematics. Dick nodded, looking for Jason’s signal before the three of them slipped towards the building.

“Red Robin, you’re up,” Dick nodded towards the door’s panel.

“D- Nightwing, you sure?”

“We need to move fast. You got this.” Dick was reluctant to admit it, but he knew Tim was faster, and without any kind of cover, they were sitting ducks.

“Get a move on, Boy Hacker. Those guards will be back in about eleven minutes,” Jason hissed, his back to them and his hands resting on his holsters.

“Because heckling absolutely makes people do things faster,” Tim muttered, his typing growing frenetic.

“Play nice, Hood.” Dick turned himself to keep an eye on the opposite side. They were cutting it closer than he was comfortable with.

“Look if this doesn’t work, we’re still going to need time to get back to the trees. It’s time to cut our – ”

“Shut up, we’re in.” Dick was impressed by how much excitement Tim could fit into a whisper. He grabbed the back of Jason’s jacket, yanking him into the building, letting the door shut without a sound behind them.

They moved through the building silently. Dick felt much better getting to move through the low lighting of the factory than he had in the early morning light. All three of them were on high alert, but they seemed to have lucked out; there was no one around. And speaking of luck, Dick smiled as he saw a computer terminal tucked into a corner. He put out a hand to stop his brothers.

“Give me some cover,” he whispered, moving towards it. He hooked a small cord into an open port. Dick could feel Tim at his shoulder, watching the different windows fly across the screen. Jason on the other hand only sighed heavily.

“Thought we were here to rescue the kid, not check status updates.” Jason’s voice was a low growl, his impatience clear.

“He isn’t even connected to the internet,” Tim said. “He’s switching security cameras to loop.”

“This’ll be the fastest way to find him,” Dick added, finger tapping the screen’s upper corner. “Got him.” A small figure clad in red and black with green combat boots sat strapped to a chair in an empty room. “Level three, room sixteen. Let’s move.” Dick unplugged from the computer and they were off again, Tim leading towards the stairs.

It still took some time; they’d had to stop, backs pressed into walls and breaths held, as random men dressed in black roamed some of the hallways. When they finally found the room, Dick knelt down and smiled at the old school lock: his fingers instinctively reaching for the picks in his belt.

“This’ll only take a second,” he said, finding comfort in the familiarity of the task. The door clicked open softly about half a second before a size twelve steel-toed boot flew in above his head knocking the door back with a bang.

“Are you completely out of your mind?” Tim demanded, eyes wide.

“That was the opposite of stealth, Hood,” was all Dick could manage, slowly standing up. Honestly, he was just thankful Jason had fantastic aim and hadn’t been trying to hit him. “We better move, we’ve probably got guards on the way.”

“I’m pretty much done with this sneaking thing,” Jason snapped. “I would really like to get the kid and get out. And if I happen to get to beat the shit out of someone on the way, then so be it.”

Dick left Tim gawking at Jason as he moved into the darkened room. The sight before him chilled his blood. Damian sat, slumped forward in his chair, his mouth hanging open. The restraints tying him to the chair were the only thing keeping Damian upright.

Dick charged forward. He pressed the first two fingers of his left hand to Damian’s neck. The kid’s vitals began scrolling across the screen of his wrist computer. His pulse was slow but steady; Dick sighed in relief.

“I’m not seeing any obvious injuries,” Tim said, coming to stand next to him.

“Same. Stay with him, cut him loose and see if he’ll wake up.” Dick started scanning more of the room, a computer terminal in the corner catching his eye. “Hood?”

“Door duty, way ahead of you,” Jason cut him off, his large frame blocking most of the entrance.

Dick moved to the computer, plugging a flash drive in and starting to copy the files over.

“What is it with you and these computers?” Jason called over his shoulder.

“Intel,” he answered, eyes darting back and forth across the screen. It was all moving too fast for him to be able to read, but it helped him calm him mind. If he focused on the screen, he could almost block out the tightness growing in his chest.

“He’s breathing okay,” Tim called. “But it seems like they’ve drugged him with something heavy.”

“Can you wake him up?”

“Uhh…”

“Screw it,” Jason interrupted. “Cut ‘em loose and I’ll carry the brat. We’re out of time.”

Dick looked down at the progress bar on the screen, his thumb tapping anxiously against the console. He just needed a few more minutes.

“Give me – ”

“Nope, no time,” Jason moved from the door, a knife already in his hand. He sliced through the cords and pressed his shoulder into Damian’s abdomen, lifting him up and over his back. An alarm started blaring from out in the hall. “Now, Dick.”

“I know, I know…” Dick wrapped his fingers around the flash drive, watching as the progress bar finally hit one hundred percent. He yanked the drive, pocketing it, his other hand whipping an escrima from his back and smashing the equipment. He followed after Tim and Jason, adrenaline flying through his system. All they needed to do was get Damian to the plane; they’d put a call through to Alfred and he’d have the med-bay in the cave ready to go for them. It was going to be fine. He focused his breathing, consciously counting up and down from three, just like Bruce had taught him. It was going to be fine. It had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Oh boy_ Well at least they have him, right? So! If you're interested in what the _heck_ is going on with Selina, please check out the story _A Little While_ from this universe - and it might shed a little light on the situation ;) ALSO the story _History Lesson_ from millenniumrobin (Which is Bart tell Babs about the future he comes from *spoilers* it's _**real bad**_ also ties into this universe.
> 
> Anyway - next chapter is where the pain really begins - so mentally prepare. Thank you all so so much for your comments, kudos, and bookmarks. We can't overstate how much they all mean to us!


	4. Chapter Four: Good Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ladies make a plan - and the gentlemen must face the consequences of going in without one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there - welcome back! I'm excited for this chapter because millenniumrobin choreographs a _mean_ fight scene - and I love writing from Cass's point of view. If you don't know it already, you should absolutely take a listen to Linkin Parks' "Bleed it Out" because I did on repeat when I first started thinking about this part of the story. Triggers in this chapter include canon typical violence - and this is where we start to earn our panic attack warning. Enjoy!

**Chapter Four:**

[ _Cass_ | _Jason_ | _Dick_ | _Jason | Dick_ ]

Cass could handle events that were unexpected. She could figure out a way through them because she was good at adapting. But being good at something didn’t mean she had to like it. Cass sat atop a table in the Clock Tower. She was pretty sure Barbara had moved this table specifically for her to be able to sit where she could see everyone in the room at the same time, pushed back in the natural shadows, with no extra papers or computers to clutter it up. Cass could also see all of the possible entry points into Barbara’s workspace. She was not expecting anyone else to show up, but tonight had not gone the way it was supposed to and she was not willing to take any more chances.

The other three women in the room with her were all deep in conversation, and Cass allowed her concentration to drift away from what they were saying. She understood their words just fine, but she preferred to watch. Body language, the way they held themselves, their ticks and quirks; those gave her more than enough information anyway. But she paid special attention to Artemis Crock, because she was the biggest unknown.

The older blonde had listened to Stephanie tell the story back at her apartment, but she had been out of Cass’ line of sight. The woman stood tight like the bowstrings she preferred to fight with. Her level of anger seemed to match Barbara’s, but she wasn’t as interested in hiding it.

“So you’re telling me,” her voice cut in sharp. “You told them all upfront and Dick tried to brush you off?”

“He was not exactly receptive,” Barbara agreed.

“Jason?” Artemis asked. Cass thought that was interesting. She tried to think if anything in Jason’s reaction had been surprising.

“He didn’t say much,” Barbara replied. Cass nodded to herself, happy that she hadn’t missed anything.

“But the little demon got himself kidnapped on purpose?”

“Well…” Stephanie interrupted, bringing herself into the conversation. “He probably didn’t mean to actually get kidnapped…he’s just—”

“An eleven year old boy who thinks he’s invincible?” Artemis offered. Cass found herself nodding along with Barbara this time. She was getting used to the idea of having a real family and Barbara had promised her that even the people that you loved could frustrate you – in fact, she had said, sometimes the people you love the most are the ones who cause you the most frustration. That was good, because right now, Cass was feeling very frustrated with all of her adopted brothers.

Barbara sighed heavily, looking at Artemis slyly. “Remember when you and I used to scramble the signal for our trackers?” she asked. Artemis snorted, the corners of her lips quirking up in a smile. Cass couldn’t help but like the way she did that. She would have to remember to try and practice that type of smile later.

“You mean when you used your computer voodoo?” the older blonde amended. “I’m science and literature, Barb. This computer crap is a Bat-specialty.”

“Yeah, well let’s just say, I am seriously regretting telling Tim about that.” Barbara said with a shrug, her eyes flickering back to a blinking light on her screen.

“They want to fix it on their own,” Cass said aloud, finally allowing her into the conversation.

Artemis spun around, her hand reaching for the crossbow at her hip. Cass smiled slightly; she liked that the archer hadn’t realized she was behind her. Cass liked it even more that Artemis was ready for danger even if she had been surprised – and that she hadn’t shot at her. She could appreciate someone with quick instincts, even if Artemis did need to work on knowing her surroundings.

“But it isn’t okay to try and lock family out,” Cass added simply. She glanced back at Barbara to make sure she had said the right thing. Barbara nodded.

“Yeah,” Artemis agreed, her body relaxing slightly. “Dick knows what happens when people decide to do things on their own.” 

The way the silence sat in the room made Cass want to hold her breath. She watched as Barbara and Artemis locked eyes, something passing between the two of them, like they shared a pain neither one of them could let go. Even Steph, who was almost always moving, stood frozen in place, watching the two older girls. There were more feelings in one room than Cass was completely comfortable with.

“So…” Artemis said, finally shattering the tension. “Are they still in the city or…?”

“I doubt it,” Barbara offered. Cass could tell she was happy to be back to facts and away from feelings. “They’d want to get out fast.” Artemis seemed to consider this for a moment, her face scrunched up in concentration. Cass liked that look too and decided to add it to her practice list.

“Batman has to have a plane or three, right?” Artemis asked, tone suggesting she wasn’t completely serious. Cass had been trying very hard lately to better understand tone. The way a person used their words seemed to be just as important as which words they used and how they held their bodies. Jason had been working on teaching her sarcasm. She did not prefer it.

“Yeah, but only two of them are up and running right now,” Stephanie supplied with a shrug. The younger blonde missed Artemis mouthing the word _seriously_ in Barbara’s direction. “But, like, they’re not going to steal from the boss, right?” Cass began nodding her head from the shadows as she saw Barbara roll her eyes. Artemis laughed.

“Please,” she said. “Jason alone has hotwired, _borrowed,_ or otherwise stolen three different vehicles from your boss this month.” Cass filed away the fact that it was _Artemis_ sharing this information with the group. “He didn’t tell me about a freaking plane though,” she added in a slightly disgruntled whisper that reminded Cass of the boy in question.

Cass uncurled herself from the table to stand next to Barbara, her finger pointing to a flashing yellow light.

“Mmhmm,” Barbara murmured, nodding her head. “You’re right.” Cass liked being right.

“What’s up?” Artemis asked, eyes narrowed.

“That’s Damian,” Barbara offered. “His tracker is…a new design.”

“Why is it flickering like that?” Stephanie asked. “And why out in the middle of nowhere?”

“That’s not nowhere,” Barbara offered as Artemis groaned. “He’s been coming in and out on my screen for a little while now. His signal is being jammed; it’s trying to break through.”

“How long have you known this was where you were sending me?” Artemis asked, arms crossing unhappily. “I would have packed a bikini.”

“A bit?” Barbara said, eyes never leaving the screen. “The good news is you know how to fly there.” Cass did not like that she was missing pieces of their conversation. There was extra context and all she could figure out was that Artemis was growing even more annoyed. Apparently, Stephanie was missing pieces too.

“Share please,” she demanded. “Where are we going? Do I need to change?”

“No,” Barbara sighed at the same time Artemis growled out their destination.

“Santa Prisca. I’m going to kill all of them.”

“Bring them back first, and we’ll do it together,” Barbara said.

“Um, Babs?” Stephanie asked, her hand popping into the air. “So, I feel like…what are the chances we could catch them before they hit the island?”

“We won’t,” Artemis dismissed. Cass turned her eyes towards Stephanie, watching the way she bounced on the balls of her feet, trying and failing to bring a smile to her face.

“So odds are…?”

“I’m not making a call on injuries yet, Steph,” Barbara answered. “They’ve got a decent head start and probably took the smaller plane because it’s faster. I’ll make a call to Alfred and have him pack the med kits.”

“Look, Blondie,” Artemis said, laying her hand on Stephanie’s shoulder. “They’re a bunch of idiots to do this on their own, but they’re good fighters.”

“Right…” Steph replied, but Cass saw the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll start getting ready.” She moved off towards where Barbara kept the supplies leaving Cass alone with the older two. She considered following after Stephanie, but the look that passed between Artemis and Barbara was an interesting one.

“I know this isn’t really the time to ask…”

“Then don’t do it, Barb.” Artemis cautioned rubbing her hands over her face the way that Dick, Jason, and Barbara all did. Cass liked it when people picked up each others’ habits, and she wondered briefly who had started it.

“But how serious _are_ you and Jay?” Barbara asked as if Artemis hadn’t warned her against it.

“Serious enough that if he isn’t bleeding when we find him, he will be.” Cass jumped back a little bit, happy that neither girl seemed to notice she was still there. This conversation did not make any sense. She understood that both Barbara and Artemis knew Jason better than she did, but she had been studying him since he had showed up and she was fairly certain that the word _serious_ wasn’t one that belonged to Jason Todd. She would have to pay better attention in the future. And also figure out how being serious meant that Artemis would want to beat him up. Maybe the blonde liked it only when Jason was sarcastic – because like he’d told her, that was the _opposite_ of serious.

“Fair is fair, Barb,” Artemis said, interrupting Cass’ thoughts. “How are you and Dick?”

“It’s a mess,” Barbara said with a sigh. Cass understood _that_. Their trip to the diner had shown her exactly what people being a mess looked like. It was fighting with each other, but it was also Dick looking at Barbara like he just needed to be near her when he thought no one was watching. Which was foolish of him, because Cass was always watching. She let out a little sigh of her own as she moved away from the two of them. There was something she wanted to find before they left.

**\- - * - -**

When Jason had woken up this afternoon, he had had a vague notion of how his night would go. He knew he’d go out on patrol, and then the diner summons had come in. He’d been okay with it; free food was free food, even if it did mean putting up with _family_ to get it. He had had late night plans too, something much more fun than what he was currently doing.

“Could have been with Artemis right now, but _nooo_ you had to go and get your ass kidnapped,” he growled, Damian’s green combat boots bouncing painfully into his stomach as he ran.

“Unhand me, miscreant,” the kid mumbled into Jason’s shoulder blade. _Oh good_ , he’d woken up. Jason did not envy the headache Damian was probably going to have when he finally came all the way back to reality. But it did serve the little gremlin right for being an absolute dumbass. The kid was far too young to go out looking for so much trouble.

“Not now, brat,” Jason half-shouted over the screech of alarms and the clomping of goons running through the halls after them. He shifted the kid’s weight slightly, bumping him up a little higher. Damian groaned in response; so still not _that_ with it. Great.

Jason was glad to have Timmy in the lead. All of the hallways had looked the same to him on their way in – and they were only blurring together more as they sprinted their way towards what he _hoped_ was their exit. Or at least something they could turn into an exit. He cursed internally for having left the explosives home. He shifted Damian again, making sure he could still reach his holsters.

“How’s he doing, Hood?” Nightwing called, turning his head to look back at the two of them as he ran.

“Heavier than I would have guessed,” Jason answered, twisting his body slightly to avoid ramming the kid into the wall as he sped around a corner. The little punk started struggling in his grip. “No!” Jason snapped clutching him tighter. “Stay still.”

“You’re not…” Damian slurred, pounding his fists weakly against Jason’s side. “Take me back!”

“I’ll get right on that, your majesty,” Jason bit back. “Nightwing, the little prince doesn’t seem real grateful to me.” Dick just shrugged, not even bothering to turn around.

“Fools…you absolute imbeciles…”

Jason couldn’t help but wish the drugs had kept the kid under just a little bit longer.

“Tell you what kid,” he said. “The next time you go and get yourself caught, we’ll just leave you.” Damian’s only response was a very sick sounding moan. “So help me, god – if you puke on my jacket, I will drop you.” Jason rounded the next corner, just barely avoiding crashing into Nightwing, who had apparently _not_ been able to avoid knocking Red Robin onto his ass.

They had reached a crossroad: Bane’s goons were closing in on them from three sides, the fourth – and furthest from them – was still clear. Dick, having righted Timmy, turned to look at Jason. Neither one of them had to say anything; Jason knew what was going to happen next. He nodded, starting to lower the kid to his shaky feet.

“Red Robin,” Nightwing started, his voice that of a confident leader. Tim spun to face him, panic clear despite the mask covering his eyes.

“Di- _Nightwing_ , no,” Tim begged. “Don’t do this.”

“You’re going to take Robin and you’re going to get him out of here.” Dick spoke as if he hadn’t heard Tim’s protest.

Jason knelt down so he could look the little Robin in the eyes. He did not like the way the kid was swaying, but there wasn’t a lot they could do about it now. “ _Time to be a good soldier_ ,” he whispered, a little ashamed that he could match Bruce’s voice pattern so easily. Jason watched him scrub his small hands over his face as if that was going to be enough to clear the drugs from his system.

“It’s a trap,” he mumbled weakly.

“No kidding,” Jason agreed, starting to do a quick count of the goons closing in on them. He turned towards Tim, pushing Damian in his direction. “Take him and go.”

“No!” Tim replied, but he still put out a hand to help steady the wobbling kid. “I can help,” he insisted. “I can…”

“We’re not doubting you,” Dick whispered, sparing the kid a glance, but obviously trying to focus on the quickly approaching bad guys. They were running out of time.

“Timmy,” Jason said quietly. He knew that the Big Bad Bat would have his head for using real names in the field – but Jason had spent enough time dealing with Dick to recognize when a person needed to be reminded they were human under the mask. He knew he needed to acknowledge Tim’s feelings so that they could move past them and the kid would do his job. “You trust us?” He watched the uncertainty cross Tim’s face – knew the kid didn’t want to say _no_ but also knowing that Dick had let him down before and _he_ was still a fairly new element.

“Yes,” he said finally, his eyes dropping down to Damian.

“Good,” Jason said. “Then trust that there comes a point in every man’s life where he has to just shut the hell up and do as he’s told.” Jason knew he had to connect with the kid – not break character completely.

“Are you…? _You’re…!_ ” Tim spluttered at him. “And how has that worked out for you?” He managed finally. Jason just shrugged.

“Hasn’t happened to me yet,” he replied, a smirk on his face. Despite the seriousness of the situation he heard Dick snort in response as well. “But your time is now. Listen to Dick; take the kid and go. We got this.”

Tim opened his mouth to try and protest again, but he looked over at Dick, who managed a smile. Jason knew that this was pretty much a worst-case scenario for Dick. He knew that about ninety percent of this plan revolved around his need to try and keep both Tim and Damian safe. He understood that it wasn’t going to be an easy fight – and also knew this was finally going to be his chance to break stuff. _That_ , at least, he was looking forward to.

“Please?” Dick said, his voice low, begging Tim to go. Finally, the kid nodded. Resigned, he slid Damian’s arm over his shoulders. With a small shove, Jason sent the two of them towards the only open exit.

“ _So..._ ” he said to Dick, his voice louder than before. “We got this, right?”

**\- - * - -**

Dick watched as his two youngest brothers moved down the only empty corridor; they were moving much slower than he would have liked. He tried to even out his own breathing, counting each inhale. Tim wasn’t nearly as big as Jason, so carrying Damian was out of the question. But the kid was still fighting through whatever drugs they’d pumped him full of and it showed. The two of them almost shambled, Tim very obviously dragging Damian along. Dick reached for his escrimas, channeling his anxiety and anger into pure adrenaline.

This was the right choice; it had to be. He and Jason were more than a match for the ten men moving towards them. It would be easy. Take out the bad guys, catch back up with the kids, Jason could pick Damian up again and they’d make a mad run for the plane. Easy.

“ _So..._ ” Jason called to him. “We got this, _right_?”

Dick smiled, knowing Jason was practically vibrating with his desire to cause bodily harm.

“Yeah, piece of cake,” he replied. “They even gave us an even number. Makes things simple.” Jason snorted.

“That’s a mighty big assumption Nightwing. What makes you think I’m going to leave you five?” The bigger man cracked his knuckles, his hand waving as if to bring on the attackers sooner.

“Back to back?” Dick asked, already moving into the familiar position.

“You have to ask?”

“Just checking,” he quipped. “The last time we did this, you broke my nose. Just wanted to make sure it wasn’t going to happen again.”

“One,” Jason barked. “That wasn’t the last time – it was _one time_.”

“Yeah, _yeah_.”

“Two, if you wore a helmet, it never would have happened.”

“I am not dressing like you.”

“Right, I forgot. You lack style,” Jason said, gleefully playing his part in their typical argument. Dick knew Jason was almost never intentionally cheerful, except for when the situation absolutely did _not_ call for it. He’d asked about it once; Jason’s answer had been something along the lines of after beating death once – the prospect of facing it again didn’t seem nearly as impossible.

Dick’s attention snapped back the present as he heard the sound of Jason drawing a pistol. Surprisingly, none of the oncoming men had reached for their guns. Dick wasn’t keen on escalating his job to bullet dodging. “No guns, Hood,” he hissed.

“You are such a buzzkill. It’ll even the odds!”

“The odds are fine.”

“It’s a little messed up we think that way.”

“You said _we_.”

“Shut up,” Jason groaned, shifting his stance as his half of the goons closed in on him. Dick appreciated that he could trust him – that he knew his back was covered. He took a step forward as two of his came rushing in.

As it seemed to do with all fights, time slowed for Dick. The guy on his right swung, a long, looping punch Dick had seen a million times before. It spoke of desperation and a man big enough that others didn’t usually pick fights with him. Dick was pretty sure he hadn’t fallen for a hit like that since he was a kid on one his first missions with Batman. He could hear the older man’s voice in his head now, coaching him through the slip and counter. Dick ducked under the haymaker, jamming his escrima into the goon’s kidney. As the man shouted, Dick shifted his weight onto his right leg, using the other to deliver a crippling blow to the other thug’s knee. The man went down instantly, his joint making an unnatural crackling sound. With one fluid motion, Dick moved back to his full height, swinging his other escrima at the first man’s head, sending him to the ground in a heap.

He heard a grunt from behind him and turned to see Jason stagger a few feet. Dick watched as Jason twisted his head from side to side, letting the vertebrae in his neck snap him back into comfort. His younger brother had always been a bit more of a brawler and he was in his element. Jason all but dove for his attacker, tackling him to the ground in a full mount, quickly loosing three punches to his face. The goon lay still beneath him, Jason pressing a hand into the unconscious man’s chest to launch himself back to his feet, just in time to land two punches into another thug’s midsection, finishing with a strong uppercut to send the man flying.

Dick’s attention was soon pulled back to his own problems as a battle cry sounded just off to his right. Pushing a hand into the ground, he launched himself into a back handspring, landing in a crouched position. A much bigger thug continued in, swinging wildly. Briefly, Dick internalized the unfairness of it all – all of Jason’s attackers were his size or smaller – Dick seemed to end up with all the beefcakes. He leaned back from one punch, ducked another, and then went back to work: one escrima to each side of the man’s ribs, followed by a double shot to the head. Annoyed that it hadn’t dropped him as intended, Dick wound up, and backhanded an escrima to the man’s chin, finally sending him to his knees and eventually face first to the floor.

With half of the bad guys down for the count, Dick noticed Jason starting to show off. He was fighting, hands down by his sides, leaning just out of reach of the man swinging for him. Even though he couldn’t see Jason’s face, he could easily imagine his smile as he grabbed the thug’s collar and threw him at a second attacker, sending them both flailing to the ground. He then proceeded to stroll over to them calmly, take hold of their heads and slam them together, both of them checking out of the fight.

It made Dick smile, Jason’s cockiness was infectious. He dropped low as another of his attackers came for him, sweeping the guy’s leg and sending him sprawling. He then planted that same foot as he stood, his leg flying through the air, heel connecting with his last attacker’s temple. The man fell with an extremely satisfying _whoomp._ He smirked, ready to start catching back up with Tim and Damian when a slight _cooing_ caught his ears.

Dick turned, escrima at the ready, only to see Jason, almost sweetly holding the last thug in a rear naked choke, one hand stroking the top of his head.

“Sleep time, little bad guy,” he said, patting him as the man’s legs struggled and kicked before finally going still. Jason dropped him unceremoniously to the concrete floor. “There,” Jason said, wiping his gloved hands together. “That _was_ easy.”

Before Dick could scold him, the sound of more boots coming towards them stopped them both. Glancing down a hallway, at least twice as many men were steaming towards them. Dick turned towards Jason incredulously.

“You just had to say it, didn’t you?”

**\- - * - -**

Of course he had to say it. Sometimes, on occasion, Jason was known to run his mouth. It didn’t usually work in his favor, but he had no regrets. And that included the mouthing off that had contributed to his untimely death. He was who he was and he embraced the chaos that followed. Jason’s life goal – _second life goal–_ was to someday finish a fight, light a match off the bastard’s chest, and smoke a celebratory cigarette. At this point, Dick really should be used to it.

Jason felt Dick’s back pressing against his as the newest wave of attackers started for them. This group was not nearly as courteous as the last had been. He wasn’t sure if this was all a part of Bane’s plan or whatever, but this was super inconvenient, and he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be nearly as fun. Ten on two was something they had both handled before. _Hell_ , with Bruce that was a school night before racing back the cave, finishing homework, and getting to bed. This was looking more and more like twenty-plus thugs coming in to ruin their day, which had already not been going so great. Fantastic.

As the first of the men reached them, Jason threw himself into the fight. With elbows and fists flying, he leapt towards one goon, cracking him across the chin. A knee to the stomach and a well-placed kick sent him into the man coming in behind him. Jason didn’t have time to savor the sight they made though, as the sharp pain of a fist to his midsection pushed the air from his lungs. Lucky bastard had managed to find one of only three spots not protected by armor. He gasped as he ducked another swing. Planting his feet and widening his stance, Jason sent a fist into the man’s chin. Again and again, Bane’s men pushed forward. No matter how many he put down, more seemed to step up. He groaned as another strike landed, pain lancing up his side. He was pretty sure he was now fighting with a broken rib or two, but he’d fought through worse.

Jason reached a hand back instinctively, looking to see how close he was to Dick, but he found nothing but empty air. He spun, ducking a hook coming for his head. He could see Dick somersaulting and twisting through a group of men at least as big as the one currently surrounding him. When his feet were planted, Dick’s escrimas moved faster than Jason’s eyes could track. A burst of light flashed from the end of one of the sticks as Dick zapped one of the thugs in the chest.

Jason smirked, happy to see they were using toys now. He reached down to pull free two of his guns, firing off four bullets towards the knees of Bane’s men. One by one, they fell, screaming in pain. They weren't kill shots, but Dick still spun towards him, clearly annoyed.

“What did I say about guns?” he demanded.

“Calm down, I know where I’m shooting!” Jason yelled back, shooting another charging man in the calf.

“Cool, cool,” Dick barked, taking a hit to the ribs, growling and slamming his escrima down on the offending thug’s wrist, likely shattering it. “And what happens when you hit me? Or they start firing back?” Jason rolled his eyes under his helmet.

“You know, I wouldn’t have to worry about shooting you if we were fighting back to back, _like you said._ ”

“ _Seriously?”_

Rationally, Jason knew _getting shot_ was not a proportional response to breaking their fighting pattern, but he really did like shooting the bad guys and things were starting to get a little out of hand. As if on cue, another guy got a lucky hit in on Dick, landing squarely against the bruise that had already been forming along his jaw. Rocked a little, Dick stumbled backwards a step before whipping his escrima across the man’s face.

“Yeah, alright,” he said. “No kill shots.” Jason rolled his eyes, but he’d take what he could get.

“Thanks, _Barbie_.” The second he’d said it, Jason knew he’d gone a step too far. He opened his mouth to apologize, but it was too late. Dick had frozen, just for a second, but it was enough. A very opportunistic thug buried a fist into his stomach, dropping Dick to his knees.

The same man wound up for a knee, but Jason was faster, shooting him in his opposite leg, sending him off balance and to the ground just shy of Dick.

A solid fist to the kidney let Jason know he had been distracted for too long. He twisted around on one knee, spraying bullets at the legs of the crowd of goons. Elegant? No, but the howls and cries from men dropping to the ground, plus the slowed advance of the gang as a whole, told him it was effective enough.

He glanced back to check on Dick, who was just getting up from the ground, and swung his leg at the thugs advancing on him. As they fell to the ground with a satisfying crash, Jason turned back to his attackers – and into a punch to the jaw hard enough to knock his helmet from his head. He still had his domino mask on, the loss of protection served only to piss him off. Jason lunged towards the helmet, but a quick kick to his wrist left his hand numb. The pistol he’d been holding clattered to the ground.

“It’s fine,” he growled. “I was almost empty anyway.” He reached for another gun, leveled it at his attacker, squeezed the trigger, and smiled as the man dropped to the ground clutching his shoulder. Jason rushed towards his helmet, swinging it back around into another thug’s head. He didn’t get up.

Jason began working methodically. Shoot, shoot, swing helmet, shoot, swing helmet, shoot gun until it’s empty. Use gun as a hammer. Swing helmet. Drop the gun, pull another from the holster of the man who charged him. The fact that none of the well-armed men seemed to be firing back did briefly concern him, but he wasn’t left much time to think about it. He continued to take the sporadic hit, but he was doing a lot more damage than he was taking. The problem was that they _just kept coming_. The stream of foot soldiers was seemingly endless. With a yell, he ran at them, swinging his helmet into two new attackers before winding up and launching it as hard as he could at the bastard running towards him.

Yeah. This was definitely not how he had planned on spending his free time.

**\- - * - -**

Even over the sound of his escrima shocking another of Bane’s men, Dick heard Jason yell. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see his younger brother _throwing his helmet_ at a new round of men coming into the intersection of the hallway before charging straight for them. Dick started mentally checking the odds; they were getting worse by the second. He could feel himself wearing down, a lack of sleep and food definitely starting to take its toll. But, he reasoned, the more men that were down here, the fewer there had to be chasing after Damian and Tim. So there was that at least. At this point, Jason’s strategy was going to be as good as any. Dick turned, escrima spinning in his hand, and charged in after Jason.

The bigger man was already buried deep within the swarming mass, which Dick estimated to be at least another twenty men. He briefly wondered when Bane had upped his enrollment numbers, but that would have to be a mystery for another time. He swung, one escrima connecting with a goon’s face before he jumped into the air, contorting his body sideways to avoid the man reaching for him. Rolling off the man’s back, he ducked down, swinging a leg out in a sweep that knocked two more to the ground.

The press of bodies lurched towards him, and Dick cursed himself. They were getting too close, and he was losing his range of motion making him a much easier target. He powered up his escrima, ready to shock his way out if he had to, but the weapon sputtered and died in his hand. A quick check of the other let him know he was in trouble; they had nothing left. With a sigh, he just started swinging, being only careful enough to avoid hitting Jason when he entered into his peripheral vision.

And Jason was doing what he did best: beating the crap out of anyone dumb enough to get into his range. The younger but bigger man was punching, pistol whipping, kicking, and occasionally shooting the thugs around him as fast as he could. It wasn’t an efficient use of energy, but right now it was working. He was just worried about how long Jay would be able to keep it up.

Dick’s heart was hammering in his chest. The more men that crowed around him, the more compressed his movements became. As they pressed in tighter, they were landing more and more punches. One of them pulled a knife from his belt, swinging wildly, forcing Dick to retreat.

“Knife!” he called, not knowing if Jason would hear him over the fighting, but he had to try. One swing finally caught him, biting into his arm. A sharp hiss escaped from his lips as Dick leapt back further. As much as he wanted to focus his attention on the asshole with the knife, there were just too many of them; an elbow connected with his ribs. Dick fell to one knee, his breathing labored. Another swing of the knife sliced open the chest of his uniform just below his armor. It wasn’t a deep cut, but it was enough for a thin red line to trickle out and sting like hell as sweat met with the open wound. Scowling, Dick took both escrimas and brought them up under the knife wielder’s chin, using the last of his electricity to send the man flying back from him with a crash.

Dick put on a burst of energy, throwing his body into a back flip to gain some distance. His foot never reached solid ground though, instead landing awkwardly on the body of an earlier-dispatched bad guy. Pain like fire shot up his leg and he let out a short yell as he reached for his ankle. Looking up, he saw Jason, grabbed by three thugs who were wrestling him to the ground, still swinging like a madman. Another man, big enough to make Dick a little nervous, stepped forward laughing loudly.

“You know, from what Bane said, I expected more of a challenge. Not sure where these fearsome reputations come from. You’re just little boys in way over your heads.”

Dick smirked though the pain as he got to his feet. “We still managed to beat the crap out of most of your friends.” Panting a little, he dropped an escrima stick, grabbing a batarang from a pouch at his waist and throwing it towards the still-laughing thug. The man ducked easily, a smiling splitting his face.

“You look tired, Bat-Brat. Your aim’s a little off.”

Dick allowed himself a soft chuckle. “Nah, just went over your head,” he taunted. Behind the thug the batarang flew right for the men dogpiling Jason. It embedded itself into the back of a goon for about half a second before exploding with gray smoke. The disruption was a good distraction, giving Dick a second to catch his breath. When the smog cleared, he smiled, seeing Jason standing over a group of unconscious men.

“Nice trick,” Dick’s current opponent conceded. “But that won’t help you with me.” The man lunged, raising his knife when a shot rang out, catching him in the back of the knee. As he crumpled to the ground, Dick locked eyes with Jason who stood, gun still pointing in the thug’s direction. Dick nodded at him, striding forward and sending the man into unconsciousness with a well-aimed kick to the face.

Dick watched as Jason reengaged in the fight. He moved toward him but was stopped by a skinny yet surprisingly strong arm looped around his chest, another hand at his neck followed by the biting prick of a needle, just above the collar of his armor. The arm withdrew, but Dick was still frozen in place.

Dick shook his head, trying to slow the fog that immediately started clouding over his senses. Within seconds, all the anxiety that he _had_ been keeping at bay started to come for him. He watched, frozen as Jason kicked a man across the hallway; he urged his body towards his little brother, but he couldn’t make his feet move.

It was like he was… he was paralyzed. His mind flashed red: a pair of long-fingered hands gripping the wheels of her chair – doing her best to storm away from him. ‘ _You weren’t here,_ ’ her voice shouted in his head. _Paralyzed._

“No… _no_ ,” he whispered, his chest growing tighter by the second. He felt like the walls were closing in on them, adrenaline clawing its way through his body. Even though he could still feel the air pulling into his lungs, Dick’s mind was trying to convince him that he couldn’t breathe. He stumbled forward, finally getting his feet to move, the arm that had been on him letting go, allowing him to trip over nothing, landing on his hands and knees. Dick leaned back on his heels, vaguely registering that none of the remaining men were coming towards him; they were all focused on Jason. _Jason_ . He had to help. He had already let him down so many times before. _So many mistakes…_

_No._ Dick tried rubbing his eyes through his mask. They’d talked about this; he had dealt with it – Jason did _not_ blame him for what happened. He didn’t… Dick shook himself, trying to remember. _Three things_ . He needed three things he could…he could… he could what? He could hear Barbara’s voice in his head, counting… _counting_ . She was counting down all the mistakes he had made – all the times he hadn’t listened – he hadn’t… _No_.

Dick tried to get back to his feet, but he stumbled again, trying impossibly just to breathe. _What was happening?_ He tried so hard to focus; if he could just focus on one thing, he could start to pull himself back, but nothing real would stick in his mind. He shook himself over and over again, his teeth starting to chatter.

“Snap out of it,” he growled to himself, trying to push back against the walls that were closing in. Trying to… _trying to_ … He sucked in a deep breath, slowly controlling his exhale, mentally reaching for the strings of reality. The room stopped crashing in on itself, things starting to stabilize. Not return to normal, no. Normal was a long way off with whatever he had been hit with.

A man finally grabbed at him, yanking an arm behind his back and violently pulling him to his feet. Dick fought back, his free arm aiming an elbow to the man’s jaw. He released Dick, leaving him to stumble forward again, this time, miraculously managing to stay on his feet.

_What the hell was wrong with him?_ He was better than this; he had gotten better at controlling his fears. He was… _fear_. The word struck him like a blow to the head. There was only one man he knew who could command the very idea of fear. Dick staggered again, hands gripping his head.

“Jay…” he tried, his voice weak. “ _Hood_!” he finally managed to rasp out before another arm grabbed him again. _Three things_ , he could feel three things:

_One_ : a body pressing in tightly behind him.

_Two_ : a hand yanking his head back by his hair.

_Three_ : something cold and unyielding being pressed against his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all of your continued support! You've probably noticed millenniumrobin and I share in replying to comments but we both absolutely talk about them and get really excited to see them! Thank you to everyone who's been reading and leaving notes and kudos - I cannot stress enough how wonderful they are to see (and even our silent friends - we know know you're here, and your support means so much!) Things in this story are going to keep shifting dark - so as a reminder - you are important and you should take care of yourself💛💛


	5. Chapter Five: Nighmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are only getting worse for the boys and the girls begin their journey to the island no one likes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends and happy Thursday. This chapter gave us a little bit of grief - but hopefully you enjoy the finished product. We love all the comments you've been leaving so far - so thanks for that!💛💛 The Human (millenniumrobin) does a great job with the nightmares - and this is really where those start to take off. TW for this chapter include violence and the panic - that's not going to go away for a while. Thank you so much for reading - enjoy!

**Chapter Five: Nightmares**

[ _Jason_ | _Dick_ | _Jason_ | _Dick_ | _Artemis_ | _Tim_ ]

Jason heard his name even over the repeated staccato of his guns, both the ones he had brought and the ones he’d recently liberated from the men on the floor around him. His aim had been getting a little more free and Dick’s _order_ of no kill shots had become a bit more of a _suggestion_. It’s not like he was trying to kill them, he just couldn’t particularly bring himself to care how it all happened to work itself out. Jason fired another shot, hitting a charging man in the chest and halting his forward momentum. Before he could fire again, he heard another voice calling out to him.

“That will do, Red Hood.” The voice was sharp, guttural, and heavily modified through a synthesizer. Jason felt his heart clench; he didn’t have to see the man to know who was standing behind him. He turned slowly, gun raised.

“Scarecrow,” he snarled, his finger sliding over the trigger. The burlap bag mask was no surprise, glowing red eyes stared him down. Jason brought his eyes and aim down to where Scarecrow's chest should have been, only to find himself staring at a blue symbol instead. Instantly, he pulled his finger from the trigger, taking in the horrible tableau before him.

One of Scarecrow's hands, sickly fingers with razor-sharp nails emerging from a ratty glove, knotted in Nightwing's hair; the other pressed what looked to be a small, silver tranquilizer gun into his brother's throat. And Dick, his eyes squeezed shut, wasn’t moving. _Shit_. Jason shifted his aim, leveling his gun at Scarecrow’s head, and sliding his finger back over the trigger.

“Give it up, hay bag,” Jason growled. “This is an easy shot for me.” He wasn’t lying. Jason could make this shot in his sleep, and part of him was itching to do it. The problem was the collateral; with how tight the freak was holding on to Dick, he’d absolutely shoot him full of whatever was in that vial.

“I don’t doubt it Hood, but I think _mine_ is easier.” Scarecrow pulled the trigger, and the slight click made Jason's stomach drop. He watched, still aiming at Scarecrow's head, as Dick’s body began to seize. Scarecrow let go of his hair to wrap a spindly arm across his brother’s midsection. It was clear that Dick’s legs could no longer support him and Jonathan Crane struggled beneath his weight. Jason lowered his gun as he prepared to lunge towards them.

“Stay where you are,” Scarecrow demanded, letting Dick down to his knees. Grabbing Dick's hair, Scarecrow wrenched his head upright as he jammed the muzzle of the tranq gun back underneath his chin. Jason froze. “If you take another step towards me, we’ll find out together what happens when a subject receives a third dose.”

Jason didn't lower his gun, pupils darting around as he weighed his options. There were still a dozen or so men surrounding him. Even with perfect shooting, he'd only take out half. And he still had to cover the ground between him and Dick before Scarecrow could twitch one of those sickly fingers again. It was too much space and not enough time. Jason felt his arm droop toward the ground, finger disengaging from the trigger.

“Good choice. Put your weapons on the floor. Slowly, if you don’t mind.”

Jason did as he was told, eyes staying fixed on the hand that held the tranquilizer gun.

“You know,” Scarecrow taunted, tightening his grip. “I’m fairly certain a third dose would kill him. I’ve never made it past the two before and he is starting to react so beautifully.”

“What did you give him, Crane?” Jason asked, his voice hard. “That’s not your normal shit.”

“ _Doctor_ Crane, if you please. And my work is far from _shit,_ Mister Hood. Just look at how well it’s working!” Jason watched. Dick was so obviously in pain; his body jerking unnaturally, the villain was struggling some to keep him upright. But the mad doctor only seemed gleeful because of it. Scarecrow was getting his wish; Jason was scared.

“My Nightmare Toxin is an updated formula of my old fear toxin mixed with Mister Bane’s famous venom. It feeds off adrenaline.” The man laughed maniacally. “So the more he naturally struggles, the more _afraid_ he is, the better it works. The more vivid and real the nightmares become.”

Jason sucked in a deep breath, consciously keeping his feet planted on the floor to keep from leaping at the man holding his brother. He knew all about the nightmares that lived inside Dick's head; they'd woken him up countless nights in Europe. And Dick had never attempted to hide the anxiety that had plagued ever since his parents had died and he’d gone to live with Bruce. At least he’d never tried to hide it from Jason. 

“Just look at him!” Scarecrow cawed, as if Jason could tear his eyes away. “Quite frankly, it’s working even better than I’d thought! We’ll have to move quickly. I hate that we’re missing this.”

“Missing what?” Jason demanded.

“Why his visions, of course,” Scarecrow all but giggled. “My experiment is far from over.”

The pieces of the puzzle started sliding together, forming the elements of a picture that had been too scattered to make out before. Damian had been drugged, but not like this. The kid had said it was a trap, and they had run headlong into it. Now Nightwing… _Dick_ …was paying the price.

“Or if you would prefer,” Scarecrow cut in. “I could just give him a third dose, see how long it takes his body to give out, and _you_ could become my new test subject?”

Jason realized he’d unconsciously been moving forward, the distance between them almost halved – but it was still too far. Scarecrow had needed test subjects who had experience functioning with high levels of adrenaline, and now he had them.

“No,” he breathed, forcing his hands into the air again. He couldn’t risk it. He _would not_. “I surrender.” Jason sunk to his knees, placing his hands behind his head.

Crane nodded and instantly men were on him, a gun pressed into his head, hands searching his body for any hidden weapons. Jason was hauled to his feet unceremoniously. He watched as another man took Dick’s shuddering body from the floor. His blue eyes flashed briefly open, but Jason could tell he saw nothing of the hell in front them; he was trapped in one of his own.

**\- - * - -**

Dick was struggling. He knew that there were things going on around him – could feel a thin arm holding him close and despite its frailness he couldn’t shake it loose. One minute he could see Jason in front of him, a gun aimed in his direction; the next, Dick had no idea what he was seeing. He was trying. He knew he had been trying to do something, but the harder he thought about it, the more difficult it had become. _Three_. There had been something about three. And then Scarecrow…was it Scarecrow? Had said something about a _second_ and a _third_ but…

All Dick could focus on was the pain coursing through him. Worse than any punch he had ever taken, it felt like his whole body was on fire and his blood was gasoline. He could see Jason again, but he wasn’t pointing a gun at him anymore. Instead his arms were up, palms pressed to the back of his head in surrender, but that didn’t seem right. Jason didn’t give up. Jason kept going until… _until_ … Dick tried to shake his head. He had no idea what he was doing. He told his body to move, but it wasn’t listening.

_Nightmare_. The word bounced around in Dick’s brain, ricocheting like one of Jason’s bullets, shredding everything it touched. Was this a nightmare? Dick tried to remember. When he was younger, he’d had walking nightmares. He would wake himself up screaming, standing up and definitely not in his bed. Was that what this was? No – _no_. That hadn’t happened since he was Damian’s age and that was – _Damian_. Where was Damian?

With one last push, Dick tried desperately to break free, but the pain came crashing in around him. His eyes rolled back in his head as he finally lost consciousness.

\---

When Dick opened his eyes again, he could tell something was off. He didn’t hurt nearly as much, but there was still something _wrong_. He was standing on a platform high above a packed dirt floor. The top of the orange striped tent was so close he could almost touch it. Dick glanced down; instead of the blue and black of his Nightwing uniform, he was clad in red and gold. Dick’s head snapped up as the crowd around them roared.

“And now!” Jack Haly’s voice boomed over the noise. “For our final act of the night, the magnificent Flying Graysons will perform without the aid of a net!” The audience erupted with gasps and cheers. Dick let his eyes sweep out over the center of the ring, but he couldn’t find Old Man Haly anywhere. All he could see was the unrecognizable faces clamoring for his family. _Family_.

Dick whipped his head around. Both of his parents were standing beside him, dressed identically, their hands in the air, welcoming the applause.

“Mom? Dad?” Dick whispered. He tried to move towards them, tried to reach his fingers out and brush against the familiar smoothness of their costumes, but he was frozen again. “Mom!” he called, shouting as loud as he could. She turned her head ever so slightly towards him, the corner of her lips turned up in a smile.

“Stay here, my little robin,” she whispered. Even above all the noise, he heard it – soft and familiar and warm. “Stay where it’s safe.” Dick wanted to argue. He wanted to go with her, or wanted her to stay here. He couldn’t remember which. Before he could say anything, he watched her leap from the platform, her hands wrapped tight around the bar of the trapeze. He could feel his stomach dropping with her.

“You’re all right,” another voice said to him, warmth spreading through his body. Dick turned, his father beside him. “It’ll be over before you know it,” he said with a wink before leaping out after his wife, a second bar clutched in his strong hands. Across the tent, Dick’s aunt, uncle, and cousin all waved before launching themselves out towards the center of the ring for the daring final act.

Dick felt the scream clawing its way up his throat. Everything around him slowed. They had done this so many times before, but he knew that something was wrong. One switch, two. Dick screamed again, trying to warn them, trying to get them all back to where it was safe, but no one could hear him over the crowd. _It was going to happen_.

Dick didn’t want to, but he knew exactly where to look, his eyes traveling to the rope without his permission. He saw it snap, heard the collective gasp, the scream. He didn’t want to look down, but he could stop himself. They all fell, one by one, tumbling through the air, terror etched on their faces.

His body suddenly free, Dick launched himself from the platform, his arms outstretched in front of him as he fell. There was no trapeze bar within reach, no rope, no net, so he flew free from everything. His brain kicked itself into hyperdrive. If he could catch them, he could turn and use his grappling gun; he could save them. One of his hands reached down, brushing his hip. His palm slapped against the spandex of his costume, no armor or utility belt to be found. It was fine. He would figure something out. He could do it; he could still save them. He just had to reach them.

Dick stretched his body out, his fingers brushing his mother’s as she reached back for him.

“Little bird,” she called, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Go back, Dick.”

But he couldn’t. He had to save her; he refused to just let her die.

Behind her, the ground was fast approaching. Dick imagined he could hear the sounds of bodies slamming into the dirt with a sickening finality. He closed his eyes, just for a second, and when he opened them again, the ground was gone but they were still falling.

Slowly, her image started to dissolve, fading out into the darkness.

“No!” Dick's voice was swallowed by the void. “I can still save her!” But it was too late – his mother was gone. All around him, everything slipped into darkness, but the sounds remained. Over and over they screamed, their last breaths forced from their lungs. Dick closed his eyes, squeezing them shut – but it didn’t matter. Their screams persisted as he continued to fall.

**\- - * - -**

Jason did his best Batman impersonation as he was marched down the hallway. He kept his body rigid, a scowl etched into his face even as he could feel the barrel of a gun being pressed into the base of his skull. Five goons had been spared, just for him. He had one on either arm, their fingers digging into his jacket. Not that his arms could move much anyway; they'd been sure to bind them tightly behind his back. Two were following, the asshole on the left kept jamming the cold metal of a gun against his head. And finally the one in front, occasionally glanced back in what the bastard probably thought was a menacing way. The effect was pretty much lost on Jason. Not a single one of these assholes scared him. He had already planned out three different ways of taking them down. One by one. _Painfully_. But the truth was, not a single one of them were necessary; Jason wasn’t going anywhere or trying anything. At least not while the two men ahead of his own guards were dragging an obviously unconscious Nightwing. The only sounds in the hallway were the clomping of boots and Dick’s occasional moans. Jason tried to look on the bright side; at least he knew Dick was still breathing.

Leading their procession from hell, Scarecrow glanced back, positively beaming. The man was in his element.

“My associate has already been notified of your capture,” he crowed. “It won’t be long before all four of you are reunited.” He turned his red eyes on Dick. “Well, you can have back the little ones anyway. Nightwing will be otherwise occupied.” Jason’s stomach clenched but he forced himself to laugh.

“Please,” he scoffed, a smile stretched across his face. “Those two are long gone, hay for brains. I got the notification that they lifted off more than fifteen minutes ago.” He was bluffing. There probably was some way he could have been notified of the plane leaving. But it was probably Babs or Dick who’d actually be getting the update. He glanced down at Dick again, trying to hide a wince. _Fuck_. If they made it out of this, Barbie was never going to let them out of her sight again.

“At least your bravado is amusing, Hood,” Scarecrow crooned. “I know they’re still in the compound somewhere. Besides, your kind doesn’t often leave a man behind.” He stopped long enough to eye Jason. “Except, you know, that one time.”

The line had been meant to make him angry and it had – but Jason refused to give him the satisfaction of a response. It didn’t matter if he could feel the anger brushing up against the back of his mind; Jason didn’t have the luxury of losing control here. Instead, he made a conscious effort to slow his breathing down, something Dick had worked with him on over the last three years. It helped, but it didn’t stop his stomach from tying itself in knots as he watched the older boy spasming on the floor in front of him. Jason had no idea how the hell he was going to get them out of this mess.

“Welcome to your new rooms!” Scarecrow chirped merrily, coming to a stop. He turned to address the men dragging Dick. “Get him tied to the chair. I’ll be in to hook up the monitor.” He turned to Jason with a laugh. “We wouldn’t want to miss any more of his beautiful visions, now would we?” As the men began pulling Dick through the door, Jason made his move.

“No way I’m letting him out of my sight.” He lunged forward, the sudden movement ripping his jacket from the grip of his captors. A knee slammed into the back of the man in front of him before he spun, leg coming up in a kick Dick would have been proud of, sending the gun that had been previously painfully pressed into his head clattering to the floor. That goon howled as the delicate bones in his hand shattered under Jason's boot.

“Rethink your situation, Hood,” Scarecrow shouted, clearing his throat menacingly, the silver gun in his hand again. “You can still take his place after I let him die.” Jason froze, allowing the men behind him to take his arms once again. The one with the now-broken hand came around and whipped Jason across the jaw with the butt of the newly reclaimed pistol. 

Scarecrow approached him slowly. “That was your final warning, Red Hood. Do I make myself clear?” He took Jason’s silence for compliance. “Now, this other room is for you. You’ll be able to keep your eyes on him and the other two brats will be with you shortly.” 

Without warning, the two men holding him shoved Jason into the room, almost sending him to his knees. He stumbled to a stop in front of a floor-to-ceiling window. On the other side of the glass, Dick had been strapped to a chair. As he watched, Scarecrow waltzed into the room and started applying wires to Dick’s temples.

The whole time, the original Boy Wonder twisted and jerked, his head slamming against the back of the chair. If he weren’t already unconscious, Jason would have been worried he’d knock himself out. Briefly, he wondered if Scarecrow knew how much Dick hated being restrained and if it were meant to add to the hell.

“As you can see,” Scarecrow called facing the window. “You’ve got a front row seat. _If_ Nightwing does manage to wake up, he won’t see anything but his own reflection. And, because I know you can hear me, you’ll be able to hear every pathetic, wounded moan escape his lips.” He proved his point by thrusting his bony fingers into Dick’s hair, shaking him. The low antagonized sound that followed made Jason feel like he was going to puke. 

Scarecrow laughed, letting go, moving closer to Jason’s side of the glass. The need to hurt the costumed villain coursed through him - the Pit stretching out her fingers to grip his heart. There was a guard standing just in front of Jason’s door. It would be so easy to take him down and start breaking things, even with his hands bound behind his back. But Jason couldn’t risk it again; he wouldn’t. He’d never make it to Dick before Scarecrow would inject him with a third dose.

“Don’t worry, Hood,” the man called. “In just a few moments we’ll start the projection. The technology is brilliant; we’ll be able to see what he sees. Every vision, every second of his terror – it’ll be just up there.” He pointed up and Jason noticed the giant screen for the first time. “I’ll turn it on once the others join you. I want to study the effects of watching another’s terror. I think it’ll prove quite enlightening.” He laughed as he left the room. Jason heard his own door slam shut as well.

His attention was frozen on Dick, noting every tremor and tick that pulsed through his body. It was like he knew he was tied down and was trying to free himself. Jason felt like he’d swallowed hot lead. Their nights in Europe flashed through his head. Every so often, after just a few too many drinks, the two of them would talk about the nightmares. It wasn’t the healthiest, but it was something like coping – and it had helped them survive. Jason pressed his face against the window in exhaustion. He’d heard enough about the monsters that lurked in his older brother’s head; he wasn’t ready to see Dick’s nightmares firsthand.

**\- - * - -**

The darkness broke before Dick, replaced with the deep purple of the bioship’s interior walls. He knew M'gann was at the helm, expertly swinging her baby around and lowering it to the ground. The second the hatch opened, Dick was blinded by the white light of the Arctic, but he didn’t need to see to know where he was going. He began sprinting out into the biting cold. Dick was vaguely aware of Artemis beside him, her long legs matching his own, neither one of them stopping to put on warmer clothes – both of them focused on the spinning tornado of energy in front of them. It was a Magnetic Field Disruptor gone chrysalis, and the only hope of stopping it – _and saving the world_ – were the three speedsters currently running in the opposite direction of the energy tornado. Three heroes: a time traveling kid, a man with twins on the way, and Dick’s best friend – who had gotten out of the game. Who had come back because Dick had asked. And now…

_“Come on, enjoy the moment, my friend. You earned it.”_ Wally’s last words echoed in Dick’s head. He knew what was coming next. This scene had replayed itself over and over again in his mind thousands of times over the last three and a half years. More times than he could count, he had been forced to watch, unable to do anything to change it.

_“Look, it’s working! They’re shutting it down!”_ Dick heard the words coming out of his own mouth. It was true every time, but it felt like a lie. He felt himself pointing towards the stream of energy coming off the speedsters in waves. But it wasn’t really him pointing – it wasn’t him calling out with hope in his voice. He was a spectator in his own body, watching a movie he already knew the heart-wrenching, horrible ending to.

And just like it always did in his head, everything around him began to slow down. He could see the three of them running. Barry and Bart were clear as day, but Wally was transparent, a ghost already. His best friend shimmered in and out of focus, Barry next to him, shouting words that Dick could never hear. The light became blinding and by the time Dick could see again, Wally West was gone. He had _ceased_ to exist.

Dick wanted out of this memory, but he could never find an escape. As the smoke cleared, Dick knew what he would find, even as his body ran forward. Knowing never stopped the tightening in his chest though. He wanted to scream.

_“Wait, where’s Wally?”_

His heart broke for her every time. The sound of Artemis Crock, one of the strongest women he had ever known breaking beside him, always shot through him worse than any of her arrows could. He tuned out as Barry came towards her. He had heard the words enough times before – and he knew more than Barry did. He knew there’d been a gold ring tucked inside Wally’s uniform – waiting until this was over. But it was never over – Wally would never get the chance to ask his dream girl to marry him – and it was all Dick’s fault.

He watched as Artemis dropped to her knees in the snow. Watched as M’gann rushed to her side and exchanged a long look with Kaldur. Dick could feel himself beginning to shake. All of it felt so real – it always did, but this time it was different. His body ached, the pain in his heart spreading through his veins with every beat. _Your fault. Your fault. Your fault_. The sound pounded in his ears. He couldn’t make it stop. He was forced to stand stock still and watch as Artemis sobbed. Finally, the darkness began to come for him, drifting in at the edges of his vision. Dick welcomed it, giving into the pain and oblivion.

**\- - * - -**

Artemis’ whole body ached. She really was getting too old for this kind of crap. Not the crime-fighting, bad-guy-beating, occasional bounty-collecting crap. No, that was fine. It was the “someone else has done something _fucking stupid_ and now she has to help save their ass” kind of crap she was struggling to keep up with.

Tonight was supposed to have been an easy night. She had gone over to Central City via zeta tube, just to keep an eye on things while Barry was off world with the League. Central City was nothing like Gotham; it was clean, and bright, and had very few random muggings. She hadn’t run into a single bad guy. It had been a little unsettling actually.

She had texted Jason, asking if he’d wanted to grab something to eat, but he’d said he had a family thing to get to first – promising to show up later with dessert. Artemis was used to that kind of answer, and the idea that later would probably be just around sunup. That was the price you paid when you found yourself consorting with Bats.

She expected he’d come over with fresh donuts and coffee from his favorite spot and then the two of them would… _well_ … they’d exist together until one of them had something else they had to do. It had been like that for a little while now – but neither one of them were really willing to talk about _exactly_ what they were doing.

Right now however, Artemis knew what she was doing. She eased up on the gas of her bike, coming to a stop behind Stephanie’s purple one on the platform just inside the Batcave. By the time she had her helmet off, Alfred Pennyworth was striding towards them.

“Ladies,” he greeted succinctly. He was carrying a tray in one hand and a packed bag in the other, as if he had just been waiting for them to arrive.

“Hey, Alfred,” Stephanie greeted warmly. Artemis smiled at him tightly. She could see the worry in the way he held himself. She wondered briefly how much Barbara had told him. He handed the bag over to Cass with a tired smile of his own, shifting the tray in Artemis’ direction. She picked up the paper coffee cup with her name scrawled elegantly across it, the smell of chi enveloping her. The old butler never ceased to amaze her with the amount of things he simply seemed to know.

“Ms. Gordon has already apprised me of the situation. She asked that I help prepare the jet for your departure.” Both Stephanie and Cass reached for their own labeled drinks. “You should find everything ready for you.” Cass held up the bag he had handed to her, tilting her head to the side.

“Sandwiches,” Alfred replied, easily interpreting Cass’ wordless question. “And yes, Miss Crock, I am aware that you’re not eating meat these days.”

Artemis smiled at him, a little bit of warmth spreading inside her, realizing that it was probably Jason who had mentioned it. “Thanks, Alfred.”

“Of course. I would have been happy to provide something for the gentlemen as well, had they deemed it prudent to call before they showed, or at the very least waited for me to come down stairs before their departure.” Artemis didn’t miss the slight edge in his voice. She could very easily imagine him preparing personalized sandwiches and drinks for the three boys, only to be disappointed by their quick exit. They’d been idiots to think they could have snuck into the cave without Alfred knowing.

“Yeah,” Steph said, her displeasure even more clear. “They didn’t check in with us either.”

“Yes,” he sighed heavily. “Ms. Gordon’s tone implied as much. You will also find that I have restocked the first aid kits.”

“More than one?” Stephanie asked, her voice anxious.

“The young men do have a proclivity for rather rough play,” he replied with a level of dryness that made Artemis snort into her drink. That was certainly _one_ way of putting it. The other was that they weren’t doing a whole lot of thinking tonight and were bound to get hurt. Unless he was seriously injured when they found them, she was pretty sure she was going to clock Jason. Hell, there was a chance she was going to punch him anyway, blood or not. The least he could have done was call first.

“We appreciate it, Alfred, really,” she said. She jerked her head towards the jet and Cass and Steph started making their way there.

“Wish us luck!” Steph called. Artemis turned to follow them, but stopped when the old man laid his hand on her shoulder.

“They mean well,” he whispered to her.

“Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t know better,” she answered. She was a little surprised to see him nodding in agreement.

“I’ll have a medical bay waiting for when you return. A call ahead to know what supplies are needed would be most appreciated.” Artemis tried not to cringe.

“You really think we’re going to need –”

“I know my charges, Ms. Crock,” Alfred interrupted. “It would be a miracle if only one of them required stitches. The kits on board are fully stocked. Both Master Timothy and Miss Stephanie have been logging hours with me, practicing combat triage. They may hesitate, but they are both fully competent.” Artemis did her best to hide her grimace. She knew Alfred was trying to warn her who he thought was the most likely candidate for injuries – and she couldn’t say she disagreed with his assessment. Dick and Jason were excellent fighters – but they were also the most likely to throw themselves into harm’s way.

“We’ll bring them home,” she promised. He smiled back at her, releasing her shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, already turning his back and heading to a different section of the cave.

She pounded back the last of her tea as she walked up the ramp of the jet, letting the hot liquid burn its way down her throat.

“You okay?” Stephanie asked. The blonde was already strapped into the copilot’s seat, waiting. Artemis glanced behind her to where the quiet one sat, watching her with an unnerving intensity. _No_. She was not okay. On the inside, Artemis Crock was freaking out. She felt like her heart was racing and she was scared. But that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was that there were a couple of morons who needed her, probably trapped on an island that she _absolutely_ hated, and Barbara had put her in charge of a mission to get their asses back home. So she lied.

“Perfect.” She sat down in the pilot’s seat, one hand on the controls, the other starting the preflight protocols. She felt more than heard Stephanie exhale a breath she’d probably been holding for a while. Artemis didn’t love the idea that there were people counting on her, but they were, and she’d do everything she could not to let them down.

**\- - * - -**

Tim was exhausted. He knew that if he had the time to check the clock on his computer, the red **AM** signal would absolutely be there, mocking him. His body was used to being tired, but tonight – and he was still calling it _tonight_ because he hadn’t been to bed yet – it was especially bad. _Tonight_ was undoubtedly working its way towards being one of his least favorite nights. _Ever_. And that was saying something. Tim wasn’t ready yet to give it a numerical ranking because there was still plenty of time for them to all die horribly.

“Let’s go, D,” he hissed, reaching back to pull Damian up closer to him. The smallest of Batman’s brood, still being affected by a sedative, was trailing behind, and Tim did not have time for it.

“You’re all idiots,” Damian half moaned, tripping over his own feet. Tim had to yank hard to keep him from tumbling to the ground. And the gremlin did _not_ appreciate the effort. “You’re all complete morons…”

Tim glanced down at the kid. If he was using contractions, he really must be struggling. He pulled him around a corner and then behind a stack of industrial packing crates.

“What’re you do – ”

“Shush,” Tim whispered, his hand cupping over Damian’s mouth. He really, _really,_ didn’t want to attract the attention of the men currently stomping past them. The kid bit down on him, and it took every Tim had in him not to yell – or at the very least haul off and smack the little monster. He pulled his hand back, and lowered himself down to Damian’s eye level. His stomach clenched when he got close: the kid’s skin was pale and clammy, a sheen of sweat coating any skin Tim could see. He was probably lucky he had been bitten instead of puked on.

“Listen, _Robin_ ,” he said, eyes locked on him as he swayed a little. “When we get out of here and Oracle is finished murdering all of us, then you can say whatever you want. But until then, _please_ , just shut the hell up and let us finish rescuing you.”

Damian shuddered violently, making Tim pull back. But when the kid met his eyes again, even through the lenses, Tim could see his devastation.

“You don’t get it…” he whispered, his speech still slurred, but his sadness clear. “Scarecrow…he _wanted_ you here…he…” But he couldn’t continue; Damian’s eyes pressed tightly shut as his head dropped slightly to the left, too heavy for his neck to hold. Whatever it was they’d given him, it was strong. Either that or he’d been given a dose too big for his small size.

Tim grabbed him, tightly pressing him up against the wall, mentally willing the kid to stay awake. It struck him that when Damian’s mouth was shut and he wasn’t glaring at him, how very young he was. But that didn’t mean that Tim would be able to carry him out of here.

“Hey,” he said as loudly as he dared. “Stay with me. What about Scarecrow?” It took a lot of self-control not to shake him when the kid didn’t answer. “Come on D, I need you to tell me what you know.”

He wouldn’t say it out loud, but Tim was scared. Whenever anyone started debating who Batman’s worst villains were, and it happened more often than it really should, they all started with the Joker. Everyone could agree that the sadistic freak topped the list; after everything he had done, it would take something pretty horrible to dethrone the Clown Prince of Gotham. But second place? No one could ever agree on that.

Each of the former Robins, and the various Batgirls, had their own picks for number two, mostly based on personal experiences. Dick, for example, had a real problem with Two-Face. There was a lot of evidence to support the former lawyer turned criminal sociopath was the one Tony Zucco was working for the night he frayed the ropes of the Flying Graysons. Then there was the time Bruce’s old buddy Harvey had taken a baseball bat to the first Robin and well… _yeah_. Tim could definitely understand why Dick did not like him.

However, whenever it was his turn to argue a villain, Tim always chose the Scarecrow. Doctor Jonathan Crane had found a way to weaponize the fear of others – to make that fear obey him. In Tim’s book, that earned the man a spot as a top tier villain.

“Come on,” he repeated, giving in and shaking the kid, but only a little. “Talk to me.”

“Him and Bane,” Damian finally managed. “There’s a new formula and he…” The kid pulled himself free of Tim’s grasp, scrubbing his hands over his face before looking around. It was as if he had just realized that they were by themselves. “Where are the others?” he asked, a hit of desperation in his voice. His gaze darted around, slowly becoming more and more aware of his surroundings.

“You were there,” Tim told him slowly. “We got ambushed. Hood and Nightwing handed you off to me and told us to run.”

“And you listened?” he demanded, his hands clenched into fists.

“They really didn’t give me much of a choice,” Tim shot back. He regretted it almost instantly as the kid’s face scrunched up and he sank to the floor. “You weren’t really in fighting condition.” He worked to keep his voice kinder this time, but it didn’t help.

“He’s going to get them,” Damian insisted darkly, dropping his head into his hands. “He wants them as test subjects. His formula… it’s why I was kidnapped.”

Tim swallowed heavily as the realization hit him. Every last bit of this had been a trap.

“We’ll go back,” he insisted. “We’ll go back and help – you’re doing better now and –”

“And it still won’t matter, niños.” The voice from behind him was another one straight from his nightmares. “The serum is introduced directly into the bloodstream, so by the time I get you back, it’ll already have taken hold.” Tim watched the grim resignation settle over Damian’s face seconds before Bane’s thick hand wrapped itself around his throat, lifting him effortlessly into the air, only to slam him against the wall. Somehow, ears ringing, Tim managed to stay conscious.

“Enough,” he heard Damian demand. Through the mental snow, he saw the kid swaying unsteadily on his feet, completely undermining the authoritative tone he’d been going for. “Put him down. We’ll go with you.”

“Of course you will,” Bane offered with a smile, lowering Tim back to his feet. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the show.”

“Show?” he questioned, trying his best not to trip as Bane steered him through the hallway. He was a little jealous that Damian was being trusted to walk on his own. Bane laughed at the question, or probably at the way he stumbled.

“Sí, un espectáculo grande. He should be all hooked up by now. Las pesadillas all up on the big screen like a movie.”

Tim tried not to let himself wonder which of his older brothers had been dosed with the Nightmare Venom. It wasn’t like there was a lesser of two evils here; they both carried some pretty heavy trauma and if he let himself start to wonder too much, he’d start trying to predict what he was about to see. So instead, Tim Drake did what he did best; he closed in on himself and found something to count – at least that might end up being useful. He picked the doors they passed. By the time he reached door number fifty-two, they were being greeted by a group of Bane’s lackeys posted up and waiting for them. Both he and Damian were patted down. Having already been held prisoner, Damian had nothing new for them to take, but Tim was relieved of both his utility belt and his new cape. Mentally, he breathed a sigh of relief that they _hadn’t_ taken his gauntlets where all his computer tech was stored. The door was unlocked and the two of them were shoved in rather unceremoniously, Damian immediately toppling to the floor.

Jason stood before them, his body tight like a caged animal, arms bound behind his back. Quickly, Tim’s eyes scanned him. The older boy was smeared with a fair amount of blood, but not all of it appeared to be his own. He was probably a bit bruised and he was definitely pissed off, but he _didn’t_ look like he was currently fighting off his personal demons, at least not yet. So it was _probably_ safe to be in the same room as him. Tim didn’t move though, just in case. 

“Where is Nightwing?” Damian demanded, pulling himself to his feet and breaking the tension. Without a word, Jason turned towards what appeared to be a window.

On the other side of the glass, Dick was sitting, tied tightly to a high-backed wooden chair. His eyes were closed, but his body was twitching violently against the restraints. _Well_ , Tim reasoned, _at least they were all still alive._

“Now that you’re all here,” the modified voice of Doctor Crane filled their room from unseen speakers. “Let’s all have a look at what makes your brave little Nightwing really scared, shall we?” The screens in the other room flared to life, the flashing pictures in Dick’s mind projected up on to them.

Tim swallowed hard, already knowing that these were things he was never meant to see. Younger brothers were not supposed to know what haunted the dreams of their older brothers. They were never meant to know that kind of fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...how are you doing? Next week is going to mark the halfway point in the story - and it is arguably the scariest chapter - so you know _can't wait to share it!_ Thank you all so much for your continued support - you are important so please take care of yourselves.


	6. Chapter Six: Story Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's own personal hellscape continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Hey guys,_ Kay here. This chapter is going to get incredibly **rough.** My Human, millenniumrobin is mostly to blame and as such, he will be taking over responding to comments for this chapter. Please, mind the TW for this - I'm putting them in the end notes if you need a heads up.

**Chapter Six: Story Time**

[ _Dick_ | _Damian_ | _Dick_ ]

Dick’s eyes flew open as he jerked awake. Every muscle felt like he had just gone a few rounds with the wrong end of Gotham City’s underbelly. Even breathing was a struggle.

He rubbed his hands over his face only to find his domino mask still covering his eyes. Looking down, he saw his bright blue symbol standing out on his chest. His chest piece, like every other piece of Kevlar armor in his bodysuit, felt like ten-pound weights meant to slow him down – not protect him. He shook his head, trying to clear it as he sluggishly struggled to sit up and figure out where he was and how he’d gotten here.

Blinking and trying to rub away the last vestiges of sleep, Dick let eyes adjust to the light as his mind started to process things. His breathing slowed, returning to normal. He was damp, like he’d been sweating – which made sense if he’d been dumb enough to fall asleep in his uniform. Dick’s eyes finally focused on the twinkling lights outside the nearby open window on a skyline he instantly recognized. He was sitting on the floor in his Gotham apartment.

Dick groaned, pushing his body from the floor. He knew he’d been burning the candle at both ends lately, but to not even make it to his bed? And those dream he’d had… he took in a long, slow breath and rubbed his hands vigorously over his face again. The dreams had been horrible. Damian kidnapped. A botched rescue attempt. Watching his parents fall to their deaths. Wally dying…

He’d had all these dreams before, of course. But never all at once. It seemed like it was definitely time to stop drinking so much coffee and maybe sleep a little more than three hours a night. As Dick reached for his wrist computer to unlock his armor so he could disrobe and conquer that sleep thing, the comm unit in his ear dinged.

“Robin,” Bruce’s voice all but growled. Dick blinked again, hand freezing. He had fallen asleep with his comm still in? Add that to the list of careless mistakes. “Are you on scene yet?” Dick could feel the adrenaline pulse through his system and knew that going back to sleep was out of the question now. He wondered if he had time to grab a cup of coffee before heading out to find the kid.

“Just arrived. Two trucks out front, no markings.” Dick was slightly surprised that it was _Tim’s_ voice that answered Bruce’s query. “No bozos either. They must already be inside.” But Bruce had asked _Robin_ for an update. Which meant that… Dick sighed. _Great._ He had warned the big guy about putting the two youngest members of the team on patrol together.

Typing quickly into his wrist computer, Dick located Tim’s signal. Business district, right down the street from Wayne Enterprises. No wonder Bruce sounded worried; he didn’t like trouble so close to home. But why hadn’t he called him in? Dick tried not to read into it too much.

“You rest up, B. We’ll handle this.” _Rest up?_ Dick’s eyes closed as he searched his memories. Was Bruce hurt? It didn’t matter – he’d figure it all out after he got to Tim and Damian. If the two of them hadn’t killed each other already, that is. It wouldn’t surprise him if he had to pull a knife from the younger boy’s fingers when he got there.

Walking over to the far side of the apartment to a spot where the wallpaper was peeling as if it were offended by the surface it covered, Dick rapped three times with his knuckles. A small panel slid away, revealing a safe with a retina scanner. After the safe opened, Dick began to restock his supplies, tucking extra batarangs and smoke bombs into his utility belt. He briefly considered grabbing extra zip ties in case he needed to break up Damian and Tim, but thought better of it. Hopefully his presence would be enough to get them to behave.

Dick launched himself down the fire escape and out to where his motorcycle was parked. It was right where he always left it, and it keyed to life with a satisfying roar. As he sped off toward the business district, he hoped the short ride would help clear the fog that still polluted his mind.

Arriving at the scene Tim’s locator had given him, Dick saw the two black trucks the younger boy had described over the comms. Dick parked his bike behind some of the other cars nearby and sprinted to the edge of the construction site. The quick movement made him feel more tired than it should have, but he didn’t have time to think about it; Dick could feel himself getting anxious. He couldn’t see Tim or Damian’s bikes. In a smooth motion, he pulled his grappling gun from his belt and launched himself into the air. Landing silently on the sixth floor of the unfinished building, he checked his wrist computer again; Tim was a level below.

Stealthily moving out across a support beam, Dick caught the outline of shadows beneath him. Before he could drop down to ambush them, he saw another shadow move – this one pulled a bo staff from behind its back. Dick smiled, watching the figure he knew was Tim spin the bo easily, cutting it through the air and into the temple of the first shadow. The man dropped like a brick, mask falling from his face. The moonlight caught it as it clattered away, and Dick felt his heart stop. He was staring at the face of a clown. Catching himself and his breath, Dick bent his knees and prepared to jump down. If the Joker was involved, there was no way in _hell_ Tim and Damian should be here alone.

As he readied to land in front of Tim, the younger man below motioned to someone out of Dick’s line of sight. Turning, he expected to see Damian come skulking out of the shadows, but a flash of red hair sent his mind reeling. _Barbara?_ She came out from behind a stack of crates, her Batgirl uniform fitting her as perfectly as it had when they were younger. And she was… _walking_ …?

Questions raced through his head faster than Dick could process them. Half memories and flashes of voices, things he _thought_ he knew unraveling in his mind faster than he could grasp at the strands. Going after Damian had been a dream. Seeing his parents and Wally die – those had been nightmares he’d had over and over again. Seeing Barbara here and now… how much of the last five years had been real? Blood roared in his ears as his fingers dug into his skull. Had he ever gone to Europe? Had he found Jason alive? Had he… had he _stayed_?

Dick couldn’t make everything that was happening mesh together. It was like he was trying to put the pieces of three different puzzles together – none of the pieces fit. But he knew who could make it right, who had always been able to make all the jumbled parts of him make sense. Dick dropped to the floor below and sprinted toward Barbara and Tim. He knew there were still hostiles in the area, but right this second, he didn’t care. Barbara was _here_ ; she was walking and here and there was a half-smile pulling at her lips.

“Batgirl!” Dick nearly shouted her name. He would deal with the lecture later; right now he just needed her to see him. To see him and flash that gorgeous smile of hers and tell him that everything was all right. He ran up until he was close enough to reach out and touch the both of them – but neither one of them reacted to his presence.

“Nice work, Robin,” Barbara said, rubbing her gloved hand through Tim’s hair. “He never even saw you coming.”

“Thanks, BG.” The smile that split Tim’s face was impressive. He’d always been like that, drinking in praise like he was worried he’d never hear it again.

“Robin?” Dick started, his hand reaching out for Tim’s shoulder, but the younger boy moved away before he could reach him.

“Come on,” Barbara said playfully, turning to go. “Let’s go ruin some more nights.” Tim paused for the briefest of seconds, almost glancing in Dick’s direction like he had heard him a moment before, but turned to follow Barbara. Dick was still trying to figure out what he’d done to warrant being _totally_ and _completely_ ignored when two men came out from the shadows, clown masks glinting with manic smiles.

Leaping into action almost immediately, Barbara spun as she aimed a kick toward one of the masks. Tim went after the other, his bo staff flashing in the darkness. As Dick watched, the two of them almost moved with a practiced choreography that he and Barbara used to have. The two men went down easily, but there were more of them now slithering in from the shadows.

Dick turned, hands up and battle ready, but the new creeps moved right past him. They were fixated on the other bat kids, but he refused to let them past without a fight. He swung at the closest thug, a fist aimed right for the side of the man’s jaw – except his hand passed straight through. It was like the masked man wasn’t even there… or that this…

“ _No!_ ” Dick screamed. It didn’t matter that no one would hear him, that this was just another dream – a nightmare brought on by _whatever_ the hell Scarecrow had shot him full of. This was his own private hell. The people he loved were in danger and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

The newest Joker Goons charged at Barbara and Tim. Both of them began fighting faster, more frantically as more masked men began to crowd in on them. Recognition fluttered through his mind, a fight like this one. Two people against overwhelming odds. But the thought was gone as quickly as it came and before Dick could understand its meaning.

They weren’t as choreographed now; their moves became more and more about survival. Dick instantly recognized the patterns – and the problems. Tim, who was more used to fighting with Bruce by his side, was struggling to hold his own against two of the goons. For the first time, Dick was forced to realize just how young the kid looked. If the men he was fighting were phased by fighting someone as young as him, they didn’t show it.

And Barbara was more accustomed to fighting with Dick at her back, someone bigger and flashier than Tim. She wasn’t getting the type of support she was used to either. Dick’s body ached to step in, knowing exactly what spaces to take up in order to even out the fight, but knew that he was completely powerless.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the henchmen began to move Tim and Barbara apart. That was dangerous; when you were fighting with a partner, you always had to know where the other person was. It was basic – but from the looks of things, Barbara and Tim hadn’t been working together all that long and the fight was starting to spiral out of their control. Dick wanted, more than anything, to help them. He chest tightened as his brain began running through worst-case scenarios. How far would the drug take him? What would he be forced to see? It couldn’t possibly… Dick shook his head violently, trying to stop the idea from forming, terrified that the thought alone would bring the scene to life before him.

And then it happened. His greatest fear made flesh. A door to his right opened with a _click_ , and a side-kick sent Barbara flying through the threshold. There was a loud _thud_ as the door slammed shut behind her, cutting her off completely from Tim. _From help_.

Dick didn’t think; his legs propelled him into a sprint. If he could pass straight through a goon, he was sure he could make it through a wall. And if he couldn’t, if the physics of this personal hellscape were malleable and subject to change to thwart his whims, then he was bound and determined to break it down. A little voice whispered in the back of his head that he wanted nothing to do with what he was about to see. Dick ignored it. He ran straight for the wall – not caring about what would happen next, just knowing that he had to reach her _before_ …

Everything went silent around him. No sounds of scuffle, no slap of boots against plywood and concrete, not even the sound of his frantic breathing that he was trying desperately to control reached his ears. Instead, a single sound reverberated throughout his entire being. A solitary _click_ froze the blood in his veins. The cocking of a gun.

Dick leapt, his body flying through the wall, which was disturbed not at all by his movements. On the other side, the darkness crept in on him, a single shaft of moonlight illuminating the other two people in the room. Everything seemed to play out in slow motion – fractions of a second stretching on for lifetimes apiece.

Next to him, Dick saw the Joker, a sadistic red smile cracking his papery face. A small black gun was held almost delicately in a gloved hand. In front of him, Dick could see Barbara. She was still wheezing with her hands on the ground – trying to recover from the kick that had sent her in here. She didn’t see him. She didn’t see the Joker.

Dick could see everything – every detail – and he couldn’t stop it. The Joker raised the gun, index finger slipping over the trigger. Barbara’s blue eyes widened in shock as she finally glanced up. Little rivulets of sweat ran from under her cowl. A vein in Joker’s neck bulged as his pulse quickened in anticipation.

The slowness of the scene allowed Dick to see everything with perfect clarity – right down to his own reflection in Barbara’s eyes as they began to water. His sleek form, blue bird emblazoned on his chest… and a little black gun clutched firmly in _his_ hand. Her eyes moved up and locked with his – as if she could finally see him before her. Barbara’s mouth opened, a single word falling from her lips and dying in the night air.

“ _Dick…?_ ”

**_Bang._**

The gun went off – the single shot violently pierced the quiet of the night. Dick’s lips opened in a scream that was silent except for the terror in his mind. The small gun suddenly felt very heavy in Dick’s hands. Barbara slumped down to her side before him, crimson blood catching the pale moonlight before everything around him went black.

**\- - * - -**

Everything was his fault. While he was incredibly reluctant to admit this fact to himself, and he would never say it aloud, Damian Wayne had to accept that, in this case, it was unequivocally true. In this moment, everything that had gone wrong, could be directly linked back to his rash decision making – to his moronic and flawed sense of superiority that had surely been calculated and then used against him.

He was currently, through the haze of sedative, being forced to reckon with the consequences of his actions. If he hadn’t been so foolish, if he hadn’t been so damn insistent that he required no support or protection, and if he hadn’t been so determined that he still needed to prove himself, he knew that none of this would be happening right now. Damian just hoped that if _– when –_ he found the opportunity to awkwardly apologize to Oracle, she would still be willing to forgive him. Because in this exact moment, he was not certain she would be. Or that he deserved forgiveness.

Damian couldn’t help but wince as a scene from Richard’s nightmares played out before his eyes. It was hard to decide which horror was worse: the imagined ones on screen, or the very real sight of his older brother twisting and jerking in the chair he was tied to. His father’s first protégé struggled before him, broken, bleeding, and very obviously in pain. Damian wanted to look away, but he, much like Todd and Timothy, were frozen in place, helplessly engrossed by the train wreck before them.

“ _Fuck this_.” He could hear Todd whisper behind him. The older boy was the first to break the spell.

Damian watched as Todd, rather ungracefully, pushed himself back from the wall and walked over to where Timothy was sitting. The older boy thrust his bound hands towards the younger.

“Fix this,” he demanded. Hesitantly, Drake pulled his eyes away from Nightwing and began picking at the Red Hood’s knot. No one came to stop them.

After several long moments of near silence, the only noise, the persistent sounds of Richard’s suffering coming in muffled from the other room, something in Damian broke. He couldn’t help it, he was angry and exhausted and full of far more frustration than anyone his age should have to deal with. He lashed out at the easiest target.

“Did you tell him then?” he snapped, eyes leveled at Drake. Damian knew that the bulk of the fury currently roiling inside him was actually self-inflicted, but he needed to release it. He needed someone else to feel the pain he did and with all potential villains out of his reach, Timothy Drake was his only viable outlet. It wasn’t _fair_ , but the eleven year old did not particularly care about fairness at this moment.

“What?” Timothy asked dumbly. Damian could see that the other boy was just as tired as he was, but he persisted, too stubborn to back down. He got to his feet unsteadily and moved towards him.

“Did you tell him how it happened? After Batman told us not to? Because it was her story to tell, or not, as she saw fit?” Drake said nothing. He turned his eyes away from Damian and refused to acknowledge the question. It was completely unacceptable. Damian used what little energy he could muster and shoved the other boy as hard as he could. It didn’t make him feel better; Drake barely moved – and he still wouldn’t look him in the eye. Damian only managed two steps backwards before his legs gave out, sending him back to the floor with a small thunk. He continued his glowering in silence.

“Wait, that... that _nightmare_ , that's what happened to Bar... to Batgirl?” Todd demanded, his now free hands scrubbing over his face. Damian knew that the two older boys had only been given a barebones story. That the Joker had done it: end of discussion. 

“It’s…no… _not exactly_ ,” Drake stammered, his eyes glued to the floor.

“What do you mean _not exactly_?” The anger in Todd’s voice was thinly veiled. Damian had meant to lash out at Timothy, but he regretted it, just a little, as the young man curled in on himself. Seeing his pain did _not_ make Damian feel better; it made the ache in his chest worse. Todd, however, was not interested in letting the question go. He stood above both Damian and Drake rather menacingly.

“We…we were out on patrol together,” Drake began nervously. “And then…I don’t know… we got separated.” He looked like he was going to be sick, but Damian, who had heard this story before, just watched as Todd crouched down on his haunches beside the slightly trembling Drake. Damian almost felt sorry for him. _Almost._

“Not good enough,” Todd whispered, his voice dropping low enough to mimic Batman’s raspy growl. Damian did not appreciate how closely it resembled his father’s. If it were at all possible, Timothy made himself even smaller, shaking his head, but refusing to meet Todd’s eyes.

“I heard the gun go off. She didn’t scream, but I still…” Timothy's voice sounded far off, like he was back to that night. “I found her. I wanted to call for an ambulance, but she made me call B - _Batman_ instead. I stayed with her until…” The boy shook his head violently. “There was so much blood and…”

“And Does Di – does Nightwing know any of this?” Todd interrupted, his voice softer, but his body still radiating with anger. 

“Not unless she told him, and I don’t think…”

“Now that you’ve been enlightened,” Damian called from his place on the floor. “What does him envisioning this even mean? It’s not what happened so -”

“It’s that he couldn’t save her,” Jason growled, gesturing up to the screen. It had stopped being a concrete story; it had devolved into flashes of blood and pain. Occasionally, Damian thought he saw a face he recognized, but it all filtered in and out too quickly for him to be sure.

“ _Fucking hell_ ,” Jason swore, his body springing up from the ground. He punched the glass, throwing his whole weight into the adrenaline filled strike.

Damian was completely unfazed by Todd’s colorful language choices, but he was fairly annoyed that the man’s punch hadn’t been enough to break the glass. It was likely bulletproof then.

“ _Fuck!”_ he swore again, this time bringing both hands against the glass. When it failed to splinter a second time, Todd spun around to face Damian as though he was only now remembering that he wasn’t technically supposed to be swearing in front of the eleven year old. 

Damian scowled, but said nothing. He was an accomplished linguist; his mother had seen to that. And because his father insisted he attend school with the miscreants his own age, he knew how to say far worse than a simple _fuck_ in no less than four languages.

Before he could formulate a retort, something to the effect of Todd’s utter lack of creativity, the lights in Grayson’s holding cell went out. Damian felt his blood freeze and could feel the others in the room still as well, listening as the door to the oldest boy’s prison swung open, and cold, measured steps slowly made their way into the room.

From his place on the floor, Damian couldn’t see who it was. He could hear Todd above him, his breathing getting heavier. From the other room there was silence for a few seconds before the loud _clang_ of metal on concrete shattered the temporary peace. The lights on the other side of the glass burst back to life like a supernova, stinging Damian’s eyes. From beside him there was a sharp intake of breath.

“ _No, no, no_ …” the older boy rasped, his palm pressing firm before turning into a fist. As his eyesight began to clear, Damian understood. The nightmares were only beginning.

While it was clear that things in Richard’s room had gotten worse, Damian was acutely aware of what was building beside him as well. Damian had been taught from a young age to identify the most imminent threat to his own personal safety in every room. And right now, that threat was incredibly clear. As inconspicuously as possible, Damian focused his attention onto Jason Todd. The boy beside him was a dichotomy of emotions, a split so sharp and raw that Damian had only ever seen Harvey Dent suffering such a state. One hand hung loosely by Jason’s side, while the other was clenched in a fist, pressing against the glass as though he could break it through sheer will. Jason didn’t have to be hooked up to Scarecrow’s nightmare projector for Damian to know what was going through his mind. He could feel the rage boiling off the man in waves, an angry sea crashing on an unprepared shore. There was sadness too... _no…_ something more than that. It was despair wrapped in guilt. Something that could only be brought on by an inability to help his brother, trapped just a few inches of glass away. Those inches might as well have been miles. They were helpless here.

“Holy fucking badgers on a biscuit…” Drake cursed inelegantly.

Damian paused. While he was loathed to teach Drake anything, when the situation wasn’t so dire he was going to have to expose him to some new cruses, preferably ones that left animals of the mustelidae family out of it.

A flash of movement drew Damian’s attention away from Drake and back to Richard’s holding cell. He turned back just in time to see the crowbar slamming into Nightwing’s foot.

**\- - * - -**

Dick Grayson was accustomed to being in pain. On a good day, at least three joints ached and one muscle could be classified as _sore_. But right now, at this moment, what he felt was _excruciating_. A sharp, physical pain dragged him back to reality and out of the horror show his mind had constructed. Seeing Barbara shot, bleeding in front of him… Dick wasn’t sure how close he’d come to losing his currently tenuous grip on sanity, but he knew he never wanted to get that close again.

He couldn’t tell if the Nightmare toxin was wearing off, or if the crowbar currently being jammed into his foot had simply been enough to shock his mind free. Dick tried to focus his eyes on the tool and bit the inside of his cheek at it twisted into his foot again. He lost his personal battle of will as a grunt of pain escaped his lips. His vision swam before focusing on a pair of sharp black shoes standing on the concrete. Dick allowed his gaze to travel up the purple pants covering a pair of skinny legs to the black belt with its silver clasp, dark green shirt, and purple suit jacket. He knew what he would see if he dared to raise his eyes any higher: a bleached out maniac in a purple tie, currently smiling with unhinged joy as he ground a crowbar into his right foot.

Dick watched the Joker’s fingers tighten on the end of the crowbar like a cane, lifting it up slowly, deliberately, before thrusting it sharply downward again. He lost any illusion of self-control as a scream of agony flew from his lips, snapping his head back sharply. Dick looked the Clown Prince of Crime in the eye and tried to give him a withering stare. But being drugged and tied up as he was, the look lost all effect on the smirking lunatic.

The Joker smiled as he stepped away, taking the crowbar with him.

“Oh good, the original Bat Brat is awake.” He waved a hand behind him and for the first time Dick noticed monitors set up in the room he was being held in. “Your little nightmare was delicious, really. The little touch of you being the one to pull the trigger,” he brought the crowbar up under Dick’s chin and tapped lightly, “some underlying guilt about not being there to save her, I’m guessing? That your absence is what caused her injuries?” The Joker let out a low, guttural laugh. “Oh, I have a hot shrink who would quite enjoy picking apart that brain of yours.”

“Still,” he removed the crowbar and Dick let his chin sink back down toward his chest. “I wanted to make sure you got to hear what _really_ happened to your precious little _Barbara_. From me, personally.” The Joker began to laugh again. At first, it sounded more like a wheeze but quickly crescendoed into a cackle that reverberated off the walls of the small concrete room where Dick was being kept prisoner.

But Dick barely heard the laugh. His mind was racing again. The Joker hadn’t said Batgirl, he had said _Barbara_. He knew who she was. And if he knew who she was then… he might know who _everyone_ was.

Despite his bindings, Dick tried to lunge for the Joker. He tried to launch himself, shattered foot and all, at the man responsible for so much destruction – the man who had nearly taken Barbara from him – the man who had _stolen_ Jason from all of them. But he couldn’t move. His arms and legs strained against the bindings; the only way he was getting out of here was if someone cut him out, and Dick really didn’t see that being a part of Joker’s plans.

“Now, now, Number One,” Joker admonished. “I can’t have you getting up and ruining story time. Interrupting would be incredibly rude.” With another shrieking laugh, Joker swung the crowbar at Dick’s right knee; the crack of the impact almost drowned out another agony-filled yell. _Almost_.

“See, distractions like that can really ruin the flow of the story.” The freak reached out with his empty hand to take a fistful of Dick’s dark hair and yank his head upward. “Someone really ought to teach you manners.” He released him with a short cackle.

Dick let his head fall back and forced himself to choke down the bile rising in his throat. If he could get his breathing back under control, he might be able to think past the pain radiating through his body. Might be able to think of a way out of this mess. He tried to focus on everything Bruce had ever taught him.

“I must say,” Joker continued. “I am flattered to know I’m on your mind, Boy Wonder.” The clown’s tone changed. It was lighter now, almost… _flirty_. “I never knew you cared.” Another cackle escaped the Joker’s painted lips before a lightning fast strike brought the crowbar down on Dick’s knee again.

His body folded as far as his ropes would allow, nearly doubled over in agony. Dick bit back the groan of pain attempting to claw free from his body. He glared up at the Joker through the sweaty mess of his hair, consciously clenching his jaw shut.

“You know,” Joker said with mock thoughtfulness, “I’d almost forgotten how much fun I could have with a Bat Brat and a _crowbar_.” He nearly giggled as he feigned another swing at Dick’s knee. Dick flinched involuntarily, the simple movement sending a fresh wave of pain through his leg.

“Now, on to the main event of the evening. Your nightmares are charming, Boy Wonder, but there’s nothing quite like the _real_ story, straight from the clown’s mouth!” Another cackle split the air and suddenly Joker was crouched down in front of Dick, their faces mere inches apart.

“Has anyone actually told you what happened? How young Barbara pined for her sweet Nightwing after he abandoned her? How she dreamed about him coming back home to her?” Joker’s voice dropped in volume with each question, growing raspier as he continued. “Every night, she left her window open for her Boy Wonder. What was she hoping for? _Boy_ , I wonder… _HA_!” Another peel of laughter and Joker jumped back, twirling and throwing his hands wide; a performer setting the stage for his unwilling audience.

“Observe, Bat Brat! Here, sweet innocent Barbara sleeps.” He gestured wildly to an imaginary bed, considering the scene himself. “ _Well_ ,” Joker mused, an eyebrow raised conspiratorially. “Not _so_ innocent, am I right?” He waggled his eyes at Dick – but whatever response he was hoping for, Dick didn’t give it. He watched, chest tightening and making it harder to focus – but Dick knew better than to look away from the madman before him.

“You know what this room looks like, don’t you? There,” Joker shot his hand to the left, “the door, where just down the hall, her roommate slept peacefully.” He used his other hand, crowbar and all, to gesture to the right. “And here, her window. Left open – _one assumes_ – for a figure clad in black to come flying through.” The Joker clasped his hands together as though smitten. “Just waiting for you to sweep her off her feet. A little daring, isn’t it? With another girl sleeping just down the hall?” Joker paused, considering for a moment. “I don’t know, Boy Wonder… maybe it wasn’t all that _wonderful_ if the roommate couldn’t even hear the two of you.” The clown giggled again, leaping forward until he was right in front of Dick’s face, close enough that Dick could feel his breath on his cheek.

“She did this every night, Boy Wonder,” he growled. “Every night she left that window open, or at the very least unlocked, hoping that you’d return from your quest to… what? To find yourself?” Joker threw his head back with a long, sharp laugh in response to Dick’s grimace. “Forgive me, really! But I mean, if you had so much trouble finding yourself,” Joker’s voice dropped a decibel, “It’s no surprise you lost _her_.” That final word – _her_ – transformed into a low, guttural laugh, bouncing off the walls of the room before turning shrill and manic. It took Joker several very long seconds to reign himself back in, turning his attention back to Dick.

“ _Any-who_ , once I found that tasty little morsel of information, and it really was quite delicious, I must say, I just _had_ to see for myself if the rumors were true. And what do you know, they were! Now, I don’t go flying around like you do,” he paused to give Dick a critical once over, eyes lingering on his ruined knee and foot. “Well, _did_.” He knocked the crowbar against Dick’s lower leg, not hard, but enough to make Dick’s vision swim. “But it was pretty easy to get up onto that window ledge myself. And do you know what I saw, Boy Wonder? Of course you do! How many times had you seen it before?”

Dick swallowed hard, trying desperately not to puke on the Joker’s shoes. It was all an act, a game to him. Barbara had never lived with a roommate, Dick knew that. He also knew she wasn’t careless enough to leave her window open or unlocked just waiting for him to come over. Whenever there _had_ been a late-night rendezvous, he’d always had to knock on the window to be let in. But with the Nightmare toxin flowing through his veins, Dick couldn’t help the way his mind reacted. The Joker’s words sent his imagination reeling.

Joker moved away from him again, his skinny arms going wide – the master of ceremonies setting the scene for his macabre play.

“It was a warm summer night; a full moon was high in the sky. And that little redheaded minx was wearing…” He cut himself off to inhale slowly, eyes slipping shut in pleasure. A smirk on his face, Joker opened his eyes, meeting Dick’s gaze like they were sharing a secret. “A t-shirt. One I don’t think belonged to her originally. An old one she stole from you, probably. But…” the Joker let out a catcalling whistle, “did she fill it out well.”

But then his expression soured. “She was still holding onto it. And I’m not talking about that thin shirt. I mean that sad, pathetic… what do you people call it?” He stopped, lifting the crowbar to scratch his own head in thought before snapping his fingers. “That’s it! Hope!” Merry once again, Joker returned himself to the scene.

“Anyway, so she’s wearing the t-shirt, and the moon – oh that inconsistent moon – is illuminating her _just_ right.” Joker took a step away from Dick toward Barbara’s imaginary bed, his hands caressing the air, a magician setting up the perfect trick.

“Other than that, she was wearing – well, I could hardly say. This thin sheet was covering her body from the waist down. But those legs – oh. You can’t hide legs like that with just a sheet, now can you? A dancer, right? And all that work being Batgirl, too.” His beady eyes turned on Dick, pinning him in place. “Can you imagine those legs wrapped around your waist? Well, I guess you don’t have to imagine it, do you?” His shriek of laughter made Dick’s heart race. He wanted more than anything to bury his fist into the madman’s face.

“You fucking monster,” Dick growled, pulling hard against his restraints.

“Now what did I tell you about interrupting, Boy Wonder? I’m just getting to the good part,” Joker scolded. He backhanded Dick across the face, making him see stars, before wagging his finger as if at a wayward child. “Do you want to know what I did next? I… _watched_ her. I watched how she moved in her sleep, how every once in a while this sweet little smile would cross her lips. How her hair bunched up around her face – those freckles dusting her skin.” Pausing, the Joker shuddered. “Well, it all got much too sentimental for me, so I pulled out my gun.” His face fell with a frown, head tilting to the side.

“Not like you’d pull out your gun on her, you pervert,” he scolded, even though Dick hadn’t said a thing. “No, I pulled out my firearm. Wait… that doesn’t work either.” Joker turned himself to the side, mumbling, but still loud enough for Dick to hear. “I pulled out my piece? No, no, that’s much worse. Let’s see… my Glock? Nope, wrong sound. This is my rifle, this is my gun?” He argued with himself for what felt like forever until finally throwing his hands in the air and turned back to face Dick, his free hand moving toward his crotch before sliding into his pocket and pulling out a small black gun with an attached silencer.

Dick felt himself gag, grateful there was nothing inside him to lose.

“I pulled out this very gun, Number One. I still hold onto it, you know, for… _sentimental reasons_.” Joker’s voice quivered as he started to laugh again, almost doubling over in joy as his story continued. “She must have heard me pull it out, because she moved, just a little bit. You had her trained pretty well, Bat Brat, for a reaction like that. Her chest coming up, those legs _shifting_. Do you want to know what she said?”

Before Dick could make his mind to reply or not, Joker leapt forward, suddenly standing way too close, one foot slipping under the front of Dick’s chair. His twisted mouth so close to Dick’s face that it dominated his vision. The clown’s voice shifted in pitch to a mocking facsimile of female relief:

“ _You. Came. Back._ ”

This time the maniacal laughter shot through Dick, shaking him to his core as it reverberated around the room, filling his senses.

The Joker spun away from him, hands in the air like a gymnast sticking the dismount; his pale, sickening reflection crackling across the television screens. His laughter continued, punctuating the story he told.

“You came back. To me! Thinking I was _you_! Oh, you naughty, naughty boy,” he shook the gun in Dick’s face. “She was so ready for you! Would have let you take her right then and there. No _where have you been?_ Or _how could you leave me?_ No! Just _you came back!_ ” Joker froze then, turning slowly before raising the gun and pointing it at the imaginary bed.

“So I did the only thing I could, Boy Wonder. I _raised_ my gun. I _cocked_ it. And then – this one really is too much – I _shot off_ and I _penetrated_ her!” More cackling filled the room, the Joker happier than Dick had ever seen him; he moved the small gun, jamming it into Dick’s midsection, just above his navel. While his uniform was reinforced, it meant nothing at this close range. If the Joker pulled the trigger, Dick was pretty sure he’d bleed to death. He could feel his adrenaline spiking again, the panic trying to claim him. The Joker must have noticed.

“Shhh, shhh. Stay with me, Number One,” he cooed, resting the crowbar against the chair so he could stroke Dick’s hair with the back of his gloved hand. Dick hated the way his body responded – latching onto the sound of Joker’s voice, pulling him back from the edge.

“It was right here,” Joker said, the gun still pressed into his abdomen. “A little bit lower than that bullseye of a Bat symbol she wore on her chest, but really, how could I ever ruin what she had going on up there?”

Dick dropped his eyes to the gun, following it as Joker traced it up his body to tap thoughtfully against the blue bird on his chest. Once, twice, three times, lost in his own twisted mind again.

“But you know something, birdbrain? She ruined it for me.” Joker’s demeanor had become darker, sullen, all the joy slipping from his face. “That redheaded little brat wouldn’t scream. She didn’t make a sound! Her eyes were open, so of course she could see that it was me and not you who had crept in, but she just wouldn’t scream – she never begged.” His breathing grew heavy as he turned his back on Dick, losing his temper, shouting at the wall.

“I live for the screaming! The begging! And that – she wouldn’t do it for me. None of it!” Joker turned back around toward Dick, his eyes wide, even more manic than before if it were possible. But his voice was suddenly so much quieter. It was so quiet that Dick was forced to try and slow his own breathing to hear the words. He didn’t _want_ to hear, didn’t want these things in his head, but he couldn’t stop it.

“But you know, Boy Wonder, I still stayed there. I watched her. I watched her chest and arms writhe in pain while her legs stayed completely still.” Slowly, Joker made his way behind Dick’s chair, the gun back in his pocket, his now-free hand trailing slowly across Dick’s back. “I watched her eyes dart around in the dark, looking for something, anything to save her – to make the pain stop.” Joker moved back in front of Dick, his demeanor calmer now. “She was looking for you.”

Dick didn’t know how much more he could take. His whole body was screaming in pain, but it was nothing compared to the weight in his chest; the feeling of absolute failure. So consumed by this agony, he didn’t notice how close Joker was again – their foreheads nearly touching as the gloved hand snaked into his hair and yanked back, forcing him to meet black eyes.

“I kept watching until she stopped moving. Until those sheets were stained redder than her hair and her skin was paler than the moonlight streaming through her window. And then I leaned down, brushed the hair from her face, and did this.” Joker leaned forward, his thin lips pressing into the sweaty, clammy skin of Dick’s forehead.

Dick recoiled violently, only to be trapped in place by the hand on the back of his neck. Everything inside of him, the hurt and abject loathing for both the man in front of him and himself, boiled over in searing stabs of pain. It took all the strength he had to choke back his own scream.

“Do you know what comes next in our tale?” Joker asked. “You should. It’s something I hear you’re pretty good at. I left her. Just like you.”

Those words were the final piece to send Dick over the edge. He gathered some of the bile that had been trapped in the back of his throat and spat; a large, runny mass landing on Joker’s cheek.

Another smack sent him reeling. Dick was pretty sure he blacked out for a second, but the leather of Joker’s glove on his throat brought him back, the clown’s other hand gripping the crowbar tightly.

“Do you know what I did to the last Bat Brat who spat in my face?” Joker’s face was contorted with rage when it suddenly snapped, devolving into hysterical laughter. “Of course you do, you brought him back.” Joker stood and raised the crowbar above his head, staring down at Dick. The injured man refused to back down. “Maybe this time I can make it stick. You were always the one I wanted anyway.” Before he could swing, a voice crackled through a hidden speaker in the room.

“Put it down, Joker. You know the rules.”

Dick recognized that voice and he knew that Scarecrow had likely just saved his life. For now, at least. Joker loomed above him, the crowbar frozen in midair and Dick wondered for a moment if he would defy the order and kill him anyway. Finally, the clown let the crowbar fall with a shrug, tossing it over his shoulder as though he didn’t care – the metal ringing out against the concrete.

“Seems like you have a guardian angel today, Boy Wonder. Too bad poor, sweet Barbara didn’t have one that night.” With that, Joker turned on the heel of one of his shiny black shoes and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Without the immediate threat in front of him, Dick could feel his body starting to give in. He knew he was still in danger and that somewhere at least Scarecrow was still watching him. But he couldn’t control it any longer. His vision swam and his body started to shake. But he was comforted by one thought. Their secret identities remained safe. Joker had only said Barbara’s name. If that madman had known his name, or Bruce’s, he would have used it, unable to hold back. A small smile flashed briefly across his face.

The only sound in the room was that of Dick’s ragged, gasping breaths as tears slid down his face. He didn’t want to fight anymore. Dick let the darkness take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Graphic violence with the intent to torture. TW: implied sexual violence - this one was hard for us to come up with - because truthfully, no sexual violence has occurred, but the word choice was _very_ specific with the intent to make the character feel as though that violence did happen.
> 
> ANYWAY - the Human shall now answer for his wrongs. Thank you all so much for reading💛💛 Your comments, kudos, and bookmarks have meant the world to us - and we can't wait to keep sharing this story with you! (Also be nice to yourself today!)


	7. Chapter Seven: Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls are on their way and the boy receive some unexpected help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, welcome back after last chapter 💛 We loved hearing from so many of you after millenniumrobin tried to rip everyone's heart out. Thank you so much for all of your comments, kudos and support! The only real warning for this chapter is talk of injuries and blood. We hope you enjoy!

**Chapter Seven:** **Escape**

[  _ Stephanie _ | _ al Ghul _ | _ Tim  _ | _ Jason  _ ]

Stephanie liked flying. It was something she had never done before she started running with the cape-and-cowl crowd. She sat, watching the clouds as they flew past her window faster than she had ever dreamed of going as a child. But that’s what happened when you were a Bat: you went a little too fast, a little too far, and jumped more times than you ever looked down. She tried to hide the shiver that ran through her body.

She knew even though they were supposed to be resting, Cass was watching; that girl was  _ always _ watching. Steph went back and forth on whether or not she thought that was cool. On one hand, Cass was a fantastic person to have on your side – on the other her quiet, ever-present observations could be pretty creepy. Steph knew Cass  _ saw _ things, and wondered what it would be like to know  _ that _ much about people.

But even more unsettling than Cass’s watching was the absolute silence that had fallen over the cockpit. None of them had spoken a word in well over an hour, and the quiet was starting to make Steph’s skin crawl. Not talking was something Stephanie Brown was  _ not _ good at. She turned her eyes away from the window and towards the woman sitting in the pilot’s seat.

Artemis Crock sat with her orange and black mask laying in her lap. Stephanie didn’t let that fool her though. The woman with her hands on the controls despite the autopilot being engaged was absolutely still in  _ Tigress _ mode.

Over the years Stephanie had learned that Artemis and Tigress were two distinct personalities. While both of them were reserved, Artemis would occasionally crack a joke; Tigress didn’t laugh. Artemis was strong, but Tigress was ruthless. Steph had accidentally overheard the older girl and Barb talking about some less than completely legal jobs that Tigress had taken on in the past once– and honestly? It scared her a little. The woman before her was staring resolutely out the windshield, her gray eyes sharp and cold. A muffled  _ tap tap tap _ was giving her away though.

Without meaning to, Stephanie looked down to where a sliver of Artemis was peeking through the Tigress persona: the heel of her left boot was knocking sporadically against the steel floor. Steph couldn’t decide if seeing those nerves made her happy to see something more human – or more afraid of what they were going to find when they got to Santa Prisca.

Steph sucked in a deep breath remembering what Barabra had told her just before they’d left for the cave. Their redheaded leader had pulled her aside discreetly while Artemis and Cass had been picking out tech to bring.

“ _ Listen,” _ she had said.  _ “Artemis is a tough girl and can sure as hell handle herself, but I need you to be ready to step up if you have to. She’s lost a lot and if one of the boys…” _ Barbara had trailed off, refusing to finish the sentence. Steph really wished she had, that way her imagination might not be working on overdrive to fill in the blank. Being injured was pretty much par for the course with the Bats. She had helped Alfred stitch-up both Tim and Damian before. She really didn’t like thinking about what could be wrong enough to have both Barb and Artemis so on edge.

“You okay there, Blondie?” Artemis asked, making Stephanie jump in her seat. She brought herself back into the moment, not knowing how long the older girl had been looking at her.

“Yeah, fine,” she replied. “I’m just…” she trailed off. Just what? What do you say out loud when you’re trying not to picture people bleeding?

“Yeah,” Artemis said, surprising her for the second time. “I know.” There was a small smile on her lips, not happy by any stretch of the imagination, but it was at least a little bit comforting. “Don’t try and guess what we’re going to find,” she told her.

“I just can’t believe they would do this!” Steph blurted, not even realizing she was going to say it until it was spilling from her mouth. “I’m so angry, I just want to shake them.”

“Mmm,” Artemis agreed. “Leave the older two to me. Jay and I are going to have some words.”

Stephanie cocked her head to the side.  _ Jay? _ That was news to her. She wanted to ask about it, but she was too worried it’d spook Artemis back into her Tigress mask and getting to talk was making all this anxiety a little better, so she left it alone.  _ For now _ .

“What about Dick?” she asked, intentionally changing the subject so she wouldn’t be tempted. Artemis’ snort told her she’d made the right choice.

“Oh, I’d happily kick his ass too, but there’ll be nothing left once Barb is done with him.” An idea sparked in Stephanie’s mind and she turned just a little so that she could catch Cass’ eye. The girl behind her raised one shoulder silently, encouraging her to continue. Or at least that was how Steph was going to take it.

“ _ Sooo _ …” she started, stretching out the word. “Dick and Barbara?”

“They’ve been doing this since they were kids,” Artemis told her, her eyes rolling.

“But why?” Steph asked. “I’ve seen the way they both look at each other.”

“Because life is complicated.”

“But it doesn’t have to be!” Steph said, trying not to yell. She knew life was hard. There were plenty of things in her world to support that: a father who had been both abusive and a criminal, and a mother who had battled severe depression and had chosen self-medication to cope. But Steph made a choice too. She had chosen to spend her life fighting for the things that made people happy. Stephanie Brown was a self-proclaimed chaotic agent of hope.

“They’re adults,” Artemis said, interrupting her thoughts. “They get to make their own choices.”

“They care,” Cass added, “about each other.” Her voice sounding as certain as Steph had ever heard it.

“Yeah, they do,” Artemis agreed, sounding tired. “Even when they’re mad at each other.” Stephanie could see that Cass was considering this.

“I care about Damian,” she said finally. “But he was wrong. He disobeyed an order, meant to keep him safe.” Steph nodded her head; she was happy Cass was a part of the conversation and wanted to show her support. Artemis surprised them both by laughing.

“Don’t go too hard on the kid,” she said, her smile reaching her eyes for the first time. “Pretty sure disobeying a direct order is one of the Batkid merit badges or something.”

“Bat  _ kid _ ?” Cass asked, clearly confused. Steph couldn’t blame her – that one was weird.

“Do people really call us that?” she asked with a cringe.

“Oh yeah,” Artemis said. “Hell, Jay uses it himself when he’s feeling particularly snarky.” There it was again. Steph had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from asking the million or so questions that sprang to her mind:

Were they friends? 

Were they  _ more _ than friends? 

How long had they been doing whatever it was they were doing? 

Did either one of them ever get sappy like normal human beings instead of the finely tuned fighting machines they both presented to the world? 

_ Did they cuddle? _

Because she valued her life, Stephanie kept her mouth shut. But she made a mental note to ask  _ Jay _ about it when they got out of this mess. There was a solid chance he’d just ignore her – but she was also pretty confident he wouldn’t hit her for asking. 

“Anyway,” Artemis said, breaking the little quiet that had fallen over them. “I’m going to grab some coffee. Either of you want something?”

Stephanie was pretty sure that if she had another cup of coffee her heart might explode, so she just smiled politely and shook her head. She watched Artemis head to the back and then pretended not to notice when the older girl checked the three first-aid kits while she waited for her coffee to brew. It had been a long night and was easily becoming one of the longest days that Stephanie could remember – she just hopped the gnawing in the pit of her stomach was due to being exhausted and not a warning for what was to come.

**\- - * - -**

Ra’s al Ghul was a man of power. He was a man to be respected, feared. Throughout his extraordinarily long life he had seen a good many things, executed a few questionable acts, and although it angered him to admit it – he  _ had  _ made several mistakes. Over the last decade most of those mistakes had involved, in some way, The Detective. Within the last twenty-four hours, he had committed several more.

Months ago, it had been decided that he would back Doctor Jonathan Crane’s latest project. Scarecrow had been developing a new serum: an injectable meant to stay in the bloodstream longer. The flaw had been that it acted on adrenaline, and if a victim was able to remain calm, the serum was rendered essentially useless.

This was where Bane had come in. Partnering the two up, they were able to mix the toxin with Bane’s venom, which acted as a catalyst, causing the victim’s body to produce excessive adrenaline to continuously feed the fear toxin. It had worked exceptionally well. Too well in fact: the test subjects kept dying.

Ra’s watched the monitor in front of him, seeing their solution first hand. They had needed test subjects whose bodies were more accustomed to managing high levels of adrenaline. The Detective’s soldiers had been the perfect answer, and the boys had been eager, unthinking. They had fallen almost too easily into their trap.

Richard Grayson sat in his cell, tied to a chair, shaking, bleeding, and sliding painfully in and out of consciousness. The boy’s breathing was ragged, at times coming with gasping pants that wracked his body, and other times so shallow, the only way Ra’s knew he was alive was because of the data that passed over his screen; readout from the various medical trackers the boy had been fixed with.

The numbers scrolling across his data pad showed that the Nightmare Toxin was a complete success. Grayson had stayed alive longer than any previous test subject. A miracle perhaps: Ra’s had not given his blessing for the use of a second dose. Nor had he approved of the use of real life stimuli.

It had been Doctor Crain’s next step: introducing a real life agitant. Ra’s had been resistant to the idea. Bane had been the one to recommend the Clown. Years ago he had swore to never again work with the madman. As he watched Grayson grow increasingly distressed, his vitals growing frantic, he knew he should have been more firm. He should  _ not _ have allowed his morals to be swayed in this way, science be damned.

The unease in his stomach growing, Ra’s turned his attention to his second monitor. His grandson sat on the floor, clearly still dealing with the side effects of the strong sedatives he’d been given. The young detective, Timothy Drake, alternated between pacing and wringing his hands as he watched the nightmares play. And finally, his own nightmare, his  _ mistake _ : Jason Todd. The second of the Detective’s boys stood with a death-like stillness, his eyes never leaving the room where his older brother was held captive. If the boy could have shattered the glass in between them, it would have splinted, shards likely lodging into the Joker’s body, until the psychopathic monster bleed to death from millions slices.

In Grayson’s room the Joker swung the cursed crowbar, an intentional choice of weapon. The man spun a lurid tale, his words causing as much pain as his blows. He knew that the Joker lacked control; the man did not know restraint. A frenetic spike in Grayson’s vitals steeled Ra’s resolve. He turned to Scarecrow, eyes boring into the smaller man.

“End this now, Jonathan.”

“But sir,” Crane protested. The lust in his eyes was undeniable. The doctor craved the fear being created before him, but Ra’s would not be moved.

“ _This instant_ ,” Ra’s commanded, his voice leaving no room for further argument.

“Yes, sir,” he said with a sigh, reaching forward for the intercom. “Put it down, Joker. You know the rules.”

Ra’s watched the screen as the Joker left the room. The minute the door slammed shut behind him, Grayson’s body reacted. He appeared to fight valiantly, but his ravaged body seized slightly as he lost his battle and the unconsciousness sucked him back under.

“Doctor Crane,” Ra’s said, keeping his voice calm but commanding. “You will intercept the Joker. Inform him that his services are no longer required.”

“But… _ but sir _ !” Crane stuttered, rubbing his hands together. “I simply must stay. There’s so much to document.”

“You are mistaken if you believe I was giving you a choice in the matter,” Ra’s hissed, his eyes glittering like steel. “Escort him to his plane.” The man scurried from the room with a bob of his head.

“Make sure that he leaves,” Ra’s said, finally turning his eyes to the other man in the room. “If he resists on the way, break him.” Bane left without incident.

Alone, Ra’s reached for the keyboard. With a few quick keystrokes, he watched as the doors to both rooms clicked open. What the children chose to do with their freedom would be on them. He could help no further.

Sweeping his cloak around his shoulders, Ra’s left the observation room and made his way towards his own private hanger. None of the Bane’s men stopped him, or questioned his crisp movements. No alarm sounded. Ra’s could only hope this would give his grandson and the Detective’s other boys a chance to escape.

He boarded his small plane; his most trusted servant, Ubu, awaited him. The man stood from his seat at the controls.

“Master?” he asked.

“We’re leaving,” Ra’s replied, settling himself into his seat. Ubu obeyed without further question. There was no need for discussion. As the plane lifted into the air, Ra’s reached forward for his communicator. He was not looking forward to this call, but he knew it needed to be made. The other line buzzed once, twice, three times; Ra’s briefly considered that the man might be too far away. Just as he was about to hang up, the buzzing stopped and an icy, rasping voice greeted him.

“I told you to never call this line, al Ghul.” The Detective, direct as ever.

“I apologize for interrupting you in the middle of a mission, but you are needed on Earth.”

“What game are you playing, Ra’s?”

“It is no game, Detective. Your sons are in danger. They’re on Santa Prisca.” He paused, hearing the Batman inhale sharply. “I am sorry. Once again, one of your boys is in grave danger because I allowed a madman to act on his whims. Let this begin to make amends.” He ended the transition before the Detective could say anything further. Ra’s could not stomach his derision today.

**\- - * - -**

Tim felt like he was going to be sick. His stomach twisted in knots and he was sure that if it had eaten anything within the last five hours, he would currently be losing it all over the concrete floor. He pressed his forehead into the glass wall that he hadn’t been able to pull his eyes away from.

On the other side, Dick’s body jerked and twitched as the older boy slipped back into unconsciousness. Tim’s entire body felt heavy with guilt. Logically speaking, he knew what had happened to Barbara was  _ not _ his fault. And he knew that everything that had happened tonight wasn’t his fault either, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like it was.

He glanced down to where Damian sat, slumped beside him. If Tim had been a better older brother to him, maybe the kid wouldn’t have run off on his own. Maybe if he had kept insisting that they spend time together, instead of willingly avoiding the kid whenever possible, he would have gotten through to him by now.

Tim tore his eyes away, but even that was a mistake. They landed on Jason; the older boy paler that Tim had ever seen him, his body as still as a marble statue. Maybe, Tim thought, if he were more like Jason, he’d be able to tell when Dick was faking being okay. Maybe then he would have been able to stop Dick from running away all those years ago. 

Slowly, Tim turned back to Dick. He’d been in Dick’s nightmare, letting him down – letting Barbara down. Tim was almost completely positive that no one had told Dick the full story of how Barbara got shot. So the fact that Dick’s mind had come so close to the truth – that he had just intrinsically  _ known _ Tim wouldn’t be able to keep her safe as a partner, made Tim hurt in ways he never knew he could. He wanted to crawl into a very dark hole until he figured out how to fix it all.

The logical part of his brain tried to scream at him. It tried to remind him that he couldn’t control the actions of other people – and that the only person to blame for Barbara being shot had just waltzed out of Dick’s cell. A rationally thinking Dick Grayson, who was  _ not _ under the influence of some nightmare-inducing terror drugs, did not blame him. He and Barbara had talked for  _ hours _ and that  _ she _ never  _ once _ had blamed him for what had happened.

He tried to breathe slowly: in through his nose, out through his mouth, telling himself that this far away, it was impossible for him to be smelling the blood that was pooling beneath Dick’s chair, even if it felt like he could. It was just a trick, the way the metallic tang hung in the air. It wasn’t real… He inhaled deeper than before, his mind desperately trying to solve at least one of the problems before him.

With a start, Tim turned back towards Jason, eyes narrowing as he studied him in the dim lighting. For the first time he saw them, damp patches against Jason’s dark clothes, streaks of red smeared over his armor. Tim moved himself as close as he dared, still very much aware of the fact that Jason was probably in some kind of mental hell and not wanting to be within striking range,  _ just in case _ .

It looked like Jason was bleeding from at least two places - and there was more blood on his pants, probably from wiping off his hands or something because it didn’t look heavy enough to be his own.

Tim took a deep breath, trying to work up the courage to talk to him. There was a very real chance Jason would say no, but Tim wanted a closer look at his injuries. He had no idea how long they would be here, but there might be something he could do for at least  _ one  _ of his brothers. He needed to do  _ something _ .

He was about to open his mouth to say as much when a loud  _ clunk _ cut him off. All three of them turned to watch the door of their room swing open on its hinges. There was no way they were actually ready for another round of fighting, but Tim immediately moved to stand next to Jason in a fighting stance. The pair of them blocking Damian with their bodies.

They waited, Tim counting in his head. By the time he’d gotten to one hundred, there were still no sign of anyone coming. No sounds in the hall.  _ Nothing.  _

Jason looked at him grimly. “Stay,” he whispered.

Tim did as he was told, watching the older boy creep closer to their now-open door.

“The other door opened too,” Damian called from the floor, his voice scratchy. Tim looked over to him and then beyond, seeing that the door leading into Dick’s cell hung open. No one walked in.

Tim’s brain kicked into hyper drive. Were they being set up? Where was the Joker? Bane? Scarecrow? Any of the guards who had helped to drag them all here? Was this just a part of Scarecrow’s game?

“Yeah,” Jason said, his head peeking into the hall. “Help the kid. We’re out of here.”

Tim reached down to help Damian up. He wasn’t surprised in the least when it was refused. Damian opted instead to reach for the wall to haul himself onto still-shaking legs. Without a word, Tim shifted so that was Damian in front of him, making sure the kid would be as safe as possible between himself and Jason. While he was certainly moving  _ a little _ better, Tim didn’t think he was ready for a fight. 

Outside their holding room, Jason stood waiting for them, his eyes scanning the hall.

“You okay to play lookout?” he asked, eyes scanning over Tim’s body, no doubt checking for injuries now that they were in some better lighting. Tim nodded, happy for the excuse to stay out of Dick’s room. He wasn’t sure he could handle it.

He pressed his body into the wall, eyes flicking back and forth as Damian stubbornly followed Jason through the door.

“How...how bad?” he called anxiously. Tim wasn’t actually sure he wanted an answer, and the heavy sigh that came from Jason told him everything he needed to know. He listened as Jason told Damian to help him with the knots that bound Dick to the chair.

“It’s a good thing you can walk, kid,” Jason said as he moved to catch Dick’s falling body once the final knot had been released. “There’s no way I can carry both of you.”

Tim turned back in time to see Damian respond with a huff and Jason shifting to press his shoulder into Dick’s gut, grunting as he lifted him. Of the three of them, Jason was Dick’s only hope of getting out of here. The once-dead Robin took a few uneasy steps towards the door before freezing, eyes glaring down at the floor. Tim looked to see what was stopping him – and the glint of the crowbar entranced him.

He wanted to say something comforting, something inspiring, anything to snap Jason out of it – because they really needed to go. The fact that no one was already storming down the hall after them was a bit of a miracle. Tim wished that Dick were awake; he’d know what to say. A shuddering moan from his eldest brother made Tim regret his wish immediately. But the noise had been enough to get Jason moving.

“Kid,” Jason said, turning his eyes towards Damian. “Hand me the crowbar.” 

“You _can’t_ be serious,” Tim nearly shouted, his eyes wide. He knew that Jason wasn’t the best role model for handling trauma, but this was taking it a little far. Damian didn’t seem to mind, however, and bent to pick up the bloody tool without complaint.

“I’m out of guns, Timmy,” Jason replied, holding his gaze. “I’m going to need something, and it might as well be this.” He walked toward him and out the door without another word. Tim couldn’t come up with anything to say. How could he? How the  _ hell _ was he supposed to respond to any of this?

Damian shoved past him as well, taking something of a co-lead as the boys made their way to what Tim hoped was the outside world. The little demon would silently peek around the corners then wave them forward when the coast was clear. Again, Tim hung back. From a strategic standpoint it made sense. One of them had to cover their retreat, and Tim, unburdened and unaffected by injuries or drugs was the best candidate for the job. Which was great, because it gave him something to do – something other than feel guilty about Dick’s nightmares.

Surprisingly, the factory seemed to be almost deserted. Which was helpful, but it made him anxious; he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. There was no way, after everything they’d been through, that they were just going to get to walk out of here.

As if summoned by his thoughts, a crowbar at his chest stopped Tim in his tracks. He looked up at Jason questioningly. The older boy pulled back the weapon and nodded for Tim to go ahead of him. Slowly, he crept forward to where Damian was crouched. On the other side of the wall, three men, all in black, stood chatting in a tight group. As he watched, two of them lit up cigarettes, seconds later, there was a sharp intake of breath from behind him.

It would figure. Here they were, on a tropical island owned by a master criminal, their oldest brother suffering from drug-induced nightmares, and Jason Todd could get distracted by a pack of cigarettes.

Tim knew he probably wasn’t being fair. People addicted to nicotine craved it even more when they were under intense stress, or experiencing pain, and Jason was dealing with both at the moment, so…he’d cut him some slack.

Without thinking, he moved forward to help Jason lower Dick the ground. This close, he could feel the way the eldest of them shook, could see the sweat that clung to his skin, and he could definitely smell the blood he’d imagined earlier.

“Jason…” he whispered. But Jason just shook his head.

“Not now, Timmy. Worry later.”  _ Worry later? _ Tim wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry at that.  _ Worry later _ implied there was a time he could ever stop worrying. He shook his head, his eyes looking down at Dick, unintentionally starting to catalogue the injuries he saw.

“But he – ”

“Listen,” Jason said, meeting his eyes, “Right now we focus on getting out of here. We can’t do anything for him before that, okay?” Tim swallowed hard, but he nodded, following Jason back up to a standing position. “Right, so we – ” Jason stopped, his head whipping around looking for Damian. “Where did that little shit go?”

Tim tried not to sigh too heavily. If Damian had been anything like a normal eleven year old, he would have been awkward and a little bit clumsy. But this kid was the actual flesh and blood son of the freaking  _ Batman _ – so of course he was amazing at the disappearing thing. Tim turned to say something to Jason, but the older boy had vanished too. Running in without a plan was exactly what had gotten them into this mess, and it looked like he was the only one who’d learned that lesson.

He looked to Dick once more before peeking his head around the corner. The slightest whisper of a cape above his head let him know what was about to happen. The men on the ground, however, were caught completely unaware as the smallest Robin dropped down from the rafters and onto the body of the man furthest from where Tim and Dick were waiting. Given everything that had happened, Tim wanted to be surprised - but he wasn’t. Leave it to Damian Wayne to find a way to fight even as he was still under the influence of sedatives.

The other two men started forward to avenge their comrade – but Jason was ready for them. He brought the crowbar slashing down at the knees of one of them, catching the other on the upswing. Both men crumpled with indigent moans.

“You’re welcome,” the older boy said, eyeing Damian. The smaller responded by walking over to where the two cigarettes lay, still smoking on the floor. Without breaking eye contact, he ground the heel of his boot down on them, effectively destroying any hope Jason had of finishing them. Despite his disdain for Jason’s smoking habit, Tim felt bad for him at that moment.

Shaking off the momentary setback in his continual quest to slowly kill himself, Jason walked back to where Tim was waiting.

“I'm going to throttle him,” he whispered, only loud enough for Tim to hear. He crouched down to lift Dick back over his shoulder, trying to suppress a groan as he steadied them both. “Search them,” he said, jerking his head back towards the men lying prone behind them. Tim moved to help Damian loot the bodies, pulling their knives and canteens from their belts. He pocketed the lighter too, just in case.

It was a miracle they didn’t run into any more guards before finding a doorway leading to the outside world. It wasn’t where they’d come in and Tim was disoriented.

“I don’t know where we are,” he admitted, his eyes beginning to search frantically for something familiar.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jason grunted. “Head to the trees, we’ll figure it out.”

“Can you run?” Tim asked suspiciously. If they continued to move slowly they increased their chances of being seen. He watched Jason shift Dick’s weight, his jaw clenching in pain.

“We’re going to find out,” he said, lengthening his strides to try and match the pace both Tim and Damian set.

They kept it up for a solid five minutes, changing pace to weave their way between the tree trunks and underbrush. Tim could hear both Damian and Jason breathing heavily behind him; they were both still struggling. He adjusted, turning in time to see Jason slowing to a stop, muttering curses as he lowered Dick’s unconscious body to the jungle floor.

“I need a minute,” Jason said, pulling his jacket off and wiping the sweat from his brow. Tim moved toward him; he knew the older boy was doing too much and wouldn’t be able to keep going at this rate.

“Can I – ” Tim stopped, a rapid three beat staccato coming from the computer at his wrist. Both Damian and Jason turned to him expectantly.

“Please tell me that’s a happy beep?” Jason asked. Tim didn’t even have to look down to know that it was not, but he brought up his screen anyway, his face falling as the information came through. “That’s not a happy look Timmy. Do they know where we are?”

“They don’t,” Tim conceded, but he knew his news wasn’t much better, “But they…uh… they found our plane.”

“And?” Jason prompted.

“And I’m pretty sure they blew it up.”

Jason let loose a fairly impressive stream of curses, the likes of which Tim had never heard before. “So we’re fucked?” he finished, hands coming up to press against the back of his neck. He slowly turned to Damian, his eyes wide as the fact he’d just gone on a tirade in front of the kid occurred to him. “Screwed,” he blurted, as if that could undo his last sixty-seconds of expletives. “We’re screwed.”

“No,” Damian sighed. “No. Fucked was the correct term, Todd. We’re about as fucked as one can get.” Jason scrubbed his hands over his face in exhaustion.

“Look at you all grownup and using pretty curse words,” he said with a dark laugh. “Dickie isn’t going to like that.” Even though his domino mask, Tim could see Damian rolling his eyes.

“Yes,” he agreed, his voice dripping with derision. “Pretty soon, I’ll be up to a pack-a-day habit and suffering from heavy withdrawal the next time we’re marooned on a Caribbean island owned and operated by a drug lord.”

“Next time?” Tim demanded. “I’d really prefer there not be a next time.”

“Seconded,” Jason added, finally giving up and sinking onto the ground beside Dick. “Alright kids, we need a plan,” he turned, his eyes locking on Tim. “What’d ya got for me, Timmy?”

“Well…” Tim started, looking around them and taking inventory. They didn’t have much. All four of them had been stripped of most of their weapons and tech. There were the three knives and two water canteens they’d nicked from the guards. His computer dinged anemically, reminding him of their jet’s destruction.  _ That’s it _ . Tim narrowed in on Dick’s computer. “I think I have an idea.”

He moved past Jason, gingerly pulling Dick’s computer free before sitting back on his heels. Taking one of the knives from Damian, he carefully pried open the device. Both Jason and Damian stayed back, eyes watching as he began pulling wires and connecting into his own. He was pretty sure that by cobbling both of their power supplies together, it would give him enough energy to break through the interference Bane was throwing up over the island. If he could just get out one message, he was sure it would be enough.

“What  _ are _ you doing?” Damian asked finally.

“I think I can get out an SOS,” Tim said, stripping down the wires and twisting them together. He pulled up his keyboard and began routing himself around the island’s security. “I might even be able to target it towards like systems.”

“Meaning?” Jason questioned, leaning his head back.

“I can make it look out for other Wayne Tech,” Tim explained. He wouldn’t say it, but his plan also counted on the idea that Barbara had already sent a rescue team for them. He hoped so anyway. Tapping in their exact coordinates, he sent a prayer out to the gods of technology and dumb luck, and hit send. An overwhelming feeling of relief washed over him as the words  _ message sent _ flashed mercifully across his screen. About five seconds later, both computers died, their power spent.

“Did it work?” Jason asked. Tim shrugged.

“We’ll see. The message got out at least.” There was nothing more he could do with the tech they had on hand.

Next to him, Dick started groaning again. The sound was low, but it pierced through the silence that had fallen between them. Jason moved forward, folding up his jacket to place it beneath Dick’s head. He was trying to cover up how worried he was, but Tim could see it clearly on his face. Just like he could see the pain every time Jason moved too quickly. He really hoped his plan worked; he didn’t know how much longer they had.

“Alright, you two,” Jason said, turning back towards them, his body blocking their view of Dick’s. Tim wondered if it was on purpose. “I need you to do a little recon. See if you can find a clearing, maybe some more cover, or some water.” He handed one of the canteens to Damian.

Tim stood, brushing the dirt from his knees. He offered a hand to the little monster again, but this time he was met with a cool stare as Damian clambered to his feet unassisted.  _ At least he was feeling better _ .

“Keep your heads down,” Jason instructed, “And watch each other’s backs.”

“I’ll try my best to keep Drake out of trouble,” Damian huffed, his arms crossed stubbornly over his chest as if  _ he _ wasn’t the reason they were all here in the first place. Tim shared a look with Jason, but said nothing.

“Listen,” Jason said, his voice earnest. “Just don’t die, okay?”

There was no way Jason could have known that Dick had once said those exact same words to him. It was years ago, but still it left him momentarily frozen. He breathed in slowly before nodding in response. Without another word, he followed Damian into the darkness of the jungle.

**\- - * - -**

Jason had never seen himself as leadership material. He was quick-tempered and honestly, he just liked fucking shit up too much to ever bother coming up with a concrete plan. Or at least one that didn’t involve a bit of theatrics and an explosion or two if he could manage it. That was part of why he and Dick had worked so well together the past few years. When they were in Europe, Jason had scouted most of their  _ missions _ , collected information, but it had been Dick who had put the plans together. It had been Dick who had kept him going on a mostly straight path. The older boy had helped to keep some of Jason’s  _ darker _ impulses at bay; when the Pit had whispered a little too loudly in Jason’s head, Dick had been the one to remind him he was more man than monster.

But now? Now everything had gone to shit. Now Dick was laying on the jungle floor, trapped in his own nightmares, and Jason had just sent the younger two off into the wild to  _ what _ ?  _ Find water? _ He groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. While the water certainly wouldn’t hurt, Jason had been looking for an excuse to send them away for a bit. He just needed ten minutes to think – ten minutes where he didn’t have to see their panic as they both eyed Dick, or the way Tim clenched his jaw whenever Jason tried to swallow his own pain. He hated how easily the kid could read him.

Jason reassured himself that Tim and Damian would be fine. When Dick had been Tim’s age, he’d been in charge of a team and things had turned out…  _ well enough _ . They were going to be fine, everything would be… Jason laughed bitterly to himself. Things were a long way off of fine. He turned toward Dick and, though he wouldn’t admit it to the younger two, he was worried.

Beside him, Dick’s body spasmed unnaturally. Jason could see the way his eyes darted quickly beneath closed lids, unconscious but far from resting peacefully. He wiped his hand on his pants before pressing two fingers to Dick’s neck; the older boy’s pulse was racing.

“Come on, Dickie,” he whispered. “I need you to fight back.” Slowly, he slipped an arm behind Dick’s shoulders, bringing him up against the protruding roots of the tree they were hiding behind. He sipped from the second canteen to test the contents; grateful for the water, he poured it cautiously over Dick’s cracked and bloodied lips. It wasn’t much, but Jason figured it couldn’t hurt.

Satisfied, Jason leaned back.With his adrenaline spent, and no one conscious around to worry, he did a quick injury inventory. He sucked a breath in through his teeth as his fingers brushed his ribs on the left side. Even with the light armor, Jason knew there was at least one break. That was fine. He had dealt with worse. Hell, he’d fought with worse – but if he was going to be expected to fight  _ and _ carry Dick? Things were going to get dicey.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he whispered, his eyes scanning out over the jungle. Jason hated not being able to  _ do _ anything. He moved some underbrush, trying to build up their cover, but it was pointless; they were as hidden as they’d ever be here among the roots. Jason let his head fall back against the tree again, listening to the sounds around him: birds in the distance, insects, and Dick’s ragged breathing. Without meaning to, Jason looked down just in time to catch a particularly violent shudder.

This was a thousand times worse than when they’d been on their own. In Europe, they had patched each other up, taking turns needing stitches and helping to clean wounds. They’d both had their bad dreams, nights where one or the other couldn’t sleep. At times they’d woken up to the sound of scream, but after a while even that had gotten a little better. Just knowing someone was there in case things got bad, it had helped. And  _ sure _ , Dick would have a panic attack every once in a while, but never more than one every six months or so, and he had always had those. Jason saw them as normal; he knew how to help when that happened, had learned at thirteen. This, though? This made Jason worried he’d never be able to reach Dick again.

Eyes closed, he told himself it would only be for a minute. Just enough time for the ache in his skull to lessen, for the whispering hint of anger and fear to quiet. If anything approached them, Jason knew he’d still catch it. He listened as Dick’s breathing evened out some; it still sounded painful, but it was slowing into a recognizable pattern.

“ _ Jay? _ ”

The raw rasp of Dick’s voice caught him off guard, but Jason did his best to stay still and calm. Carefully, he opened his eyes and turned to look down. The last thing he needed was to startle Dick and let the poison in his veins convince him that Jason was dangerous. Well, Jason  _ was _ dangerous - but not to Dick.

“You actually with me?” Jason asked, reaching out a hand to stop Dick from trying to sit up. The older boy shook beneath his fingers. “ _ Easy _ .”

“I’m here,” Dick whispered, his mouth twisting into a weak smile. “I mean you’re not trying to kill me, or bleeding to death in front of me, so…” his voice trailed off as he sucked in a breath, “I’m pretty sure this is real.”

“Real enough,” Jason agreed. He tried not to think too deeply about the fact that he’d probably been featured in some of Dick’s unseen nightmares. “What do you remember?”

“Not…” Dick shook his head weakly, his tongue trying to wet his cracked lips. Jason grabbed for the canteen again, slowly tipping it back for him.

“Go slow,” he prompted, but it didn’t work. Dick still choked. Jason pulled back, feeling useless; now he  _ was _ trying to kill Dick.

“I’m fine,” Dick rasped through his coughing. It was a lie, Jason knew it was, but it was one that Dick told often enough.

“We’ll try again in a bit,” Jason said. “Hold still, okay?” He leaned forward, taking advantage of Dick’s lucidity to loot the pockets on his belt, grateful the goons hadn’t taken it.

“Uh…Jason?”

“You still with me?” he asked. The last thing he wanted was to send Dick back into his nightmares – or be within striking distance if Dick…he didn’t want to have to subdue him.

“Uh-huh,” Dick whispered. “But you’re a little…” He was cut off by a groan as Jason’s hand grazed what must have been a sore spot. “Look, normally people buy me dinner before they get this close.”

Jason rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to hit him.

“ _ Hysterical _ . At least you still have your sense of humor.” He pulled back as his fingers wrapped around a small plastic baggie. “These are pain killers, yeah?” He asked hopefully.

“Yeah, basic ones, but – and I know how this is going to sound – I don’t think I can swallow right now.” Dick tried to laugh, but it quickly turned back into painful sounding gasps.

“Easy, you ass. Aren’t you the one who made the rule about not deflecting when you’re bleeding?” Jason scolded. “They’re for me anyway.” He threw back a pair of them with a sip of water. “You show me that the water isn’t going to kill you, and we’ll think about getting you to choke down some painkillers.” 

“ _ How _ …?” Dick panted, his eyes slipping closed just a little. “Did... you carry me?”

“It’s not the first time,” Jason offered. “I’ve dragged your ass around plenty. You’ve always gotta play hero, remember? And heroes get knocked out.”

“You’re hurt,” Dick murmured, his eyes opening, finding the bloodstains on Jason’s clothes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jason quipped. “Half of that’s yours.” He took another long sip from the canteen as an excuse to look away. Leave it to Dick to be drugged, _literally_ out of his mind, bleeding all over the place, and  _ still _ more worried about someone else. “Everyone else is doin’ okay, Dickie. You can rest.”

Jason could hear something like a heavy sigh coming from Dick and decided that would have to be enough. He turned back to his older brother just in time to see another wave of panic set in.

“Jay!” he sputtered, his hands scrambling into the ground, trying to push himself back up. “Wh - where are…?”

Jason moved as quickly as he dared, grimacing as the pain shot through his ribs. He laid his forearm across Dick’s chest, feeling the warm blood smear against his skin as he forced the older boy back to the ground.

“They’re fine, Dick. They’re okay.”

“Tim? Damian?” 

Jason watched Dick’s eyes dilate. He was losing him.

“They’re together, okay?” he promised, keeping his voice low, fighting his own panic. “Dick, I need you to focus. Stay with me.” Jason knew Dick was every bit an older brother: just barely hanging on to consciousness and he wanted to jump up and save the kids from an imagined danger. Jason actually didn’t want to know what Dick’s mind was trying to convince him of at the moment; he’d seen more than enough already.

“They…?” Dick tried to bring his hand up; he gave up halfway, allowing it to drop back to the ground.

“They’re fine,” Jason repeated, hoping it was true. “Just doing a little recon. Timmy hotwired your computers together and sent up some techno flare thingy. They’re looking for possible landing sites.” It took longer than Jason would have liked, but he watched the fear fade from Dick’s face; his breathing was still much too forced though. They sat together in silence for a minute while Dick tried to sort out the new information.

“Jason?” he asked finally.

“Mmm?”

“Landing spot for what?”

“Yeah…” Jason said, running a hand through his hair. “Bad guys found our getaway plane. They blew it up.”

“Sounds right,” Dick groaned. “How long, you think?”

“Until help comes? That depends,” Jason chucked. “How long do you think it took Babs to figure out what we were doing and send someone after us?” As soon as he’d said it, Jason knew it had been the wrong thing. Dick’s skin turned ashier.

“She’s going to kill me,” he whispered, his voice even smaller.

“Stay alive long enough to give her the chance,” Jason said before he could think better of it. He watched Dick smile halfheartedly, his body still trembling.  _ Keep him talking _ , Jason’s mind said, anything to stop him from going into shock.

“So,” he said finally. “Not that I’m judging, or anything, but why  _ did _ we come into this without a plan?”

“You didn’t see her, Jay,” Dick insisted. “She was just so  _ pissed _ at me. I just wanted to prove I could do  _ something  _ right.”

Jason let him talk. He knew he didn’t need to point out that  _ this _ had been the opposite of right; he could see the guilt weighing as heavily as the pain on Dick’s face. Jason’s own guilt sat like a rock on his chest.

“Jay?”

Jason hated everything about this. Hated how weak Dick sounded and hated how there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to change it. “Yeah?”

“If…if I…” Dick trailed off, his jaw clenched tight to try and silence his pain. “Just in case, tell her I’m sorry?”

“Dick,” Jason started, turning back to look at him. His eyes were closed again.

“And not just for this, okay?”

“I am not  _ touching _ that conversation,” Jason said, shaking his head. “You’re not putting that one on me.”

“Yeah,” Dick laughed softly, his breathing starting to stagger again. “You’re going to have enough… on your hands dealing with Artemis after this… aren’t you?”

Jason did not want to think about the fight that was waiting for  _ him _ back home. She was absolutely going to kick his ass for not even calling to cancel their plans. He knew better – and he was going to have to do better if –

“I know... you guys aren’t dating,” Dick said, interrupting his thoughts.

“We’re not,” Jason replied automatically. They had had this conversation before, after Dick had walked into Jason’s apartment and Artemis had been there, sleeping sprawled across Jason’s lap. Dick had lectured him for at least thirty minutes and Jason had no interest in reliving  _ that _ right now.

“Yeah, well,” Dick blinked his eyes open, “maybe you should be.”

“What?” Jason spluttered, all his thoughts skittering to a stop. Dick just smiled at him.

“Just, you know…be honest with her. Don’t…” he trailed off, a tremor running through his body. “Don’t shut her out of stuff, she’s smart – she can handle it.”

Jason could read between the lines. This wasn’t entirely about Artemis. He knew the regrets that Dick was laying bare before him; the implications made him anxious as he watched the rise and fall of Dick’s chest. He wasn’t doing well.

“Dick?” he said, nudging the older boy’s uninjured foot with his boot.

“Mmm?”

“Stay with me.”

“Trying.” His voice was so low, Jason involuntarily moved closer.

“Try harder,” he demanded.

“I keep seeing her,” Dick whispered, his teeth clenched in pain. “And I keep thinking... it’s gonna be different.”

“What?”

“The drugs,” he murmured. “They make me see her – but every time…” he trailed off, his eyes rolling back in his head. Jason didn’t even want to imagine the hell Crane’s drugs were creating. He reached his hand out slowly, trying not to startle Dick further.

“Come on,” he urged. “Three things, right? What’s it first? Three you can see? Look around.”

But when Dick opened his eyes, they were frantic – the terror so real it made Jason’s stomach turn.

“There’s so much blood,” he rasped, his voice small.

“Damn it,” Jason hissed, knowing he was losing him. “No. That’s the drugs, Dick. It’s not real.”

“It’s everywhere… _ she _ ,” he swallowed hard. “Jay, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…”

Jason cursed under his breath as Dick continued to mutter incoherently. At this point he wondered if knocking him out again would be a mercy. Instead, he talked over him, matching Bruce’s voice pattern, like he’d done with Damian earlier.

“It’s not real,” he repeated. “Focus on me, the sound of my voice.” He could see Dick struggling, trying to do what he was told. “That’s right, focus on me. You can fight it, you’re strong enough.”

“I’m… I don’t know if…”

“ _ You are _ .”

“Don’t,” Dick pleaded, his eyes back on Jason’s face. “Don’t do that thing with your voice – I… it’s hard enough... with reality right now.”

“Sorry,” Jason said, shifting back into his own voice. But he wasn’t that sorry, not when it seemed to have brought Dick’s focus back, even just a little.

“I’m just going to…” Dick started. “Goin’ta…close my eyes for…” Jason sighed heavily. It was no use trying to keep him awake.

“Okay, but just for a minute,” he lied. Jason would let him sleep; it was the only comfort he could offer.

“Hey Jay?” Dick said, his eyes slipping closed.

“Yeah Dickie?”

“You’re a good Robin, okay? Good brother too.”

Jason opened his mouth to respond – something snarky about not having been a Robin for years, but before he could put the thoughts together, he knew it was too late. Dick had already slid back into unconsciousness.

He sighed again, moving back to his spot against the tree. If he was going to live up to Dick’s claim, he had a bit of planning to do before the kids made it back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading💛 Millenniumrobin had the audacity to call _me_ cruel with that last little bit - but you...just have to keep going in for the emotional impact and Dick just wants to make sure Jason knows... _you know just in case :) Again, thank you to all of you for reading - we look forward to hearing your thoughts and feelings. Please be kind to yourself today and remember to do things like eat and stay hydrated._


	8. Chapter Eight: Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls finally make contact with their wayward birds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I know last week's chapter left some of us a bit emotional - and I'm not really sure that this one is going to be letting up. Millenniumrobin delivered with some killer fight scenes in this chapter - so mind the violence TW and there is also an emotional TW I'm going to mention in the end notes because it's a twist. Originally this story was only ten chapters long, we're looking at more like twelve now - so we're getting _closer_ but we're not at the end just yet.

**Chapter Eight**

[ _Damian_ | _Barbara_ | _Cass_ | _Jason_ ]

Damian Wayne had been bred to be as close to perfection as possible. Both of his parents were, despite their respective emotional flaws, physically strong and mentally sharp. From birth he had trained, honing his skills in all areas possible. He had dealt with extreme change. His mother having foisted him off to his father, he had adapted to changes in expectations. While it hadn’t been easy, he had done it – because it was what had been expected of him. He had accepted that his mother, essentially the heiress to the world's most successful group of assassins, no longer desired his company. He had accepted that his father was the Batman. It stood to reason that with his genetically superior intellect, there were a great many things that he could handle. This, however, was not one of them.

Being alone with Timothy Drake, sent out on a child’s mission meant to distract him – _or worse_ – placate him into feeling useful, was not something that Damian Wayne wanted to handle. It was taking every ounce of his self-control to walk side by side with Drake and _not_ lash out at him again. Logically, he knew that none of this was Drake’s fault, but the anger inside of him was roiling, begging for an outlet. He _knew_ it hadn't been satisfying the last time, but that didn’t stop him from wanting it. The real issue was that the anger he felt was for himself, and that had never been something Damian had been able to deal with well.

Damian suppressed a heavy sigh as he found himself watching Drake more closely than he was watching their surroundings. He added it to his list of failings for the evening.

“Would you stop that?” Drake said without turning around.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Damian demanded, letting his frustration out.

“Sighing like that? Glaring at me? Either one of them really. Honestly, I’ll even deal with _one_ of them, I just can’t handle both right now.”

Damian huffed again despite himself. He moved to go past Drake as a way of avoiding the whole conversation, but Timothy’s hand flung out to stop him. The physical contact was enough to tip him over the edge; Damian was just about to shove the older boy back when he looked down at the simple trap he’d almost walked headlong into.

“I don’t need your help,” he hissed, deciding to push away from him anyway.

“Damian, you don’t need to be so dramatic. You’re eleven.”

“My age has no bearing on my abilities, _Red Robin_. You’re older and clearly can’t remember that we aren’t to use names in the field.”

Despite the mask, Damian could feel his companion’s eye roll.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed,” the other boy started, “But this isn’t your typical mission.”

“I am quite aware. I don’t need _you_ to point out my inadequacies; you’d do well to focus on your own.”

“ _Inad…_?” Timothy paused, his gloved hand taking hold of Damian’s wrist. “Is that what you think I’m doing?” Damian wanted to yank his wrist free, but he stood his ground, and threw back his shoulders to try and make himself bigger.

“Naturally. I am aware of my failing here, and I’m sure you can’t wait to list them off for Father upon his return.”

It was the other boy’s turn to sigh. And he had had the audacity to accuse _him_ of dramatics.

“Sit for a minute,” Drake instructed. Damian was about to inform him that he didn’t need another break when the older boy tucked his legs beneath him in the underbrush. “I’m tired, D. Just sit down.”

Drake’s admittance of weakness was enough to startle him into compliance. Still a little unsteady, he tucked his legs up to his chest, eyes staring out past the trip line he’d almost activated.

“I know what you’re doing,” Timothy said, breaking the silence between them. “You have to stop.”

“What are you prattling on about, Drake?” Damian cursed himself for breaking name protocol. He turned to see the smirk on his counterpart’s face.

“Listen, I know you’re blaming yourself, and you did screw up royally but – ” Damian glowered, taking some satisfaction in the fact that it quieted Drake if only for a minute.

“I’m not interested in your lectures.”

“What I'm saying is,” Drake said, cutting him off. “You’re not the first one to do something this dumb – and we came flying in like a pack of morons without a plan.”

“You can’t possibly know what I’m thinking,” Damian scoffed, his hands clenched into fists. He ground his teeth together when the sound of Drake’s laughter hit his ears.

“ _Please_ ,” the older boy said, still laughing. “Damian, I’m the family expert in self-doubt. I’ve been trying to blame myself for things since before your mother handed you your first sword.”

Damian was about to inform exactly how he felt about being reminded that they were _legally_ family, when his mind flashed back to the cell they’d been sharing not too long ago. While Grayson’s nightmare played out before them, Timothy had practically radiated self-loathing. Damian dug deeper in his mind, trying to pierce through the haze.

It had been wrong. Everything had been wrong. Damian thought harder, his mind showing him Timothy and Todd both standing in front of him, trying to protect him even after he had…Even after he’d accused him of telling Richard Oracle’s story. Even after Damian’s words had put in him in the line of Todd’s anger.

He thought harder, his memory tripping over itself as he saw Timothy hanging back as they’d gotten Richard free. Older memories surfaced too, flashes of Red Robin’s tight smiles at Oracle, the way he practically jumped to follow her orders when they were given - almost as though he felt...

“You blame yourself,” Damian stated simply. “You blame yourself for Oracle.” He watched, curious as Drake’s body tensed, and then relaxed.

“Well, Dick does,” Timothy countered. “At least a part of him does, or he wouldn’t have dreamed it.” The older boy did a remarkable job at faking nonchalance. Which Damian _was_ an expert in.

“I doubt Richard was doing much logical thinking; he’s been heavily drugged,” Damian scoffed – surprised at himself for attempting to comfort the third Robin. The other boy only shrugged.

“Scarecrow only brings fears to the surface, he doesn’t create them.”

Damian let out a sound of annoyance. Drake was clearly determined to follow a false logic in this. There had been plenty of false things in Richard’s nightmares.

“You’ve read all the case files, Damian. You know I’m right.” Damian allowed Drake to stew in silence. What did it matter to him if the other boy wanted to blame himself? After another few minutes, Drake stood, for the third time he offered a hand down to help Damian up. 

“Come on, we’re still looking for our rescue point.”

“I don’t know why you keep doing that. I’m not an invalid requiring assistance,” he snapped pulling himself up with only a slight wobble.

“You okay?” Drake sighed, his head cocked to the side, observing him. Damian hated it.

“Don’t pretend you care, Timothy,” he snapped, his boot catching a root and causing him to stubble. Instantly, Drake’s hands were on him, steadying.

“Hold still, you little demon,” Timothy ordered, reaching forward to pull the domino mask from Damian’s face. He moved in closer, examining his eyes. “I don’t always _like_ you, but I do care about you. Follow,” he demanded, using his finger to track Damian’s sight.

Damian did as he was told, feeling more than a little shocked at Drake’s brusqueness.

“Your reaction time is still slow,” he diagnosed after a minute. “How are you feeling?”

Instead of answering, Damian reached out to take his mask back. He pressed it onto his face defiantly.

“We have more important things to do,” he snapped, pivoting and walking forward. Drake allowed the topic to drop as they continued to trudge through the greenery, moving towards the edge of the jungle.

“You know,” Drake said, pulling up beside him. “We’ve all done it. All of us have run off trying to prove that we were worthy of whatever mask we were wearing at the time. _Hell_ – on some level, all of us are still trying to prove ourselves to _him_.”

“Father is –”

“Difficult sometimes. He cares, but he isn’t always great at showing it. It’s not just you.”

Damian stood, observing the beach line. He didn’t want to admit that he agreed with Timothy, didn’t want to admit his father’s flaws aloud, but _communication_ was not the man’s strong suit. Damian was fairly certain it was a hereditary trait...

“Assuming your cannibalized-techno message worked, this is our most likely extraction point,” he muttered instead of admitting the little bit of comfort Timothy’s words had provided.

“You’re right,” Drake said, his hand landing heavily on Damian’s shoulder. “Come on, we should probably go back. Jason’s in bad shape too. He’s going to need us.”

Damian turned towards him, tempted to chastise him for his refusal to follow code names in the field, but he figured, given the circumstances, he could learn to accept this breach in protocol.

**\- - * - -**

Barbara Gordon was gifted. It was something she had been called her whole life. Ever since she could remember – and thanks to her Eidetic memory she could remember quite a lot – teachers had been telling her how special she was. Her test scores had been so high that the prestigious Gotham Academy had accepted her, even before her father had been able to afford the ridiculous price tag. When she first put on her Batgirl cowl she finally realized all the amazing things she could do with her abilities. She knew that as Oracle her skills were being put to far greater use, and she relished her ability to make a difference. But her gifts came with some pretty nasty side effects too; there wasn’t an off switch.

Everything that made her _gifted_ – her photographic memory, her attention to detail, her ability to think through multiple courses of action at once – became nothing short of a nightmare when she was forced to do what she least liked: waiting. Barbara thrummed her fingers against the wheels of her chair, willing herself not to start cycling through all possible worse case scenarios. Not again.

Barbara sucked in a shaking breath, moving her hands back to redo her ponytail for the third time. This was the exact reason that she hated waiting, hated knowing that there was nothing more she could do. She had briefly considered calling Bruce – letting him know what had happened – but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. He was always telling them that they had to work though things without him – that when he was away with the League, _they_ were Gotham’s protectors. A part of her knew it was also his way of trying to prepare them for a time when he no longer _could_ help them. And she didn’t want to worry him. While she was beyond angry that Damian had disobeyed a direct order, a tiny part of her was also afraid of telling Bruce that she had lost his son. _Sons_ … She had lost all four of them.

She closed her eyes and gave in, just a little. She let the past come for her, instead her senses filled by a boy with dark hair and blue eyes. Flashes of so many different moments flooded her, overlapping, swimming from one memory to the next. Barbara knew him in a way she didn’t know anyone else. She knew his different smiles. The one where the left side of his mouth would turn up when he knew he shouldn’t be laughing. The one that lit him up from the inside, reaching all the way to his eyes. The flirty one he used on Gotham city socialites when he played the part of Bruce Wayne’s ward. The empty smile he used when he lied. That one clouded her most recent memories.

“Grayson, you idiot,” she whispered to the empty room. He knew better, but ever since he’d come home, he’d been reckless. Barbara wanted to shake him until he came back to his senses – or until she did, and stopped letting him affect her.

Instead of clarity Barbara’s memories drew a man of him in her mind. She knew the scars that traced his body: the injuries that she’d been with him for, the ones he’d told her about when she asked, and the new ones – three years worth of marks that she had seen, but didn’t know the history of. Barbara didn’t want to admit it, but it gnawed at her; she didn’t like not knowing. She didn’t like that the two of them avoided talking – avoided being alone together. Ever since...ever since _she_ messed up.

Her heart beat faster in her chest as more memories came to her – all the times he had told her he loved her. The whispered moments terrified her, but he had always been so sure.

How devastated he looked when he’d come home, come to her apartment, _spent the night_ , only for her to tell him it had been a _mistake_ . That she had a boyfriend. _She_ had made a mistake _._

A part of her wanted to lay all this damage at his feet, but she always owned at least half of their broken pieces.

“I’m not doing this,” Barbara said aloud. “I don’t have time.” It was a lie, but it was all she had. It was the only thing to help her avoid the truth, that even though she’d only been able to admit it out loud twice, she loved him. And if she had only been able to figure that out sooner - been brave enough… then what? _Where would they be?_

Barbara swore. Over and over again, she let herself curse until she ran out of words and languages to swear in. With a deep breath, she pulled herself together. Before she could change her mind, she reached out with her left hand to open up her communicator.

“Time check, ladies,” she called, surprised at how calm her voice sounded. “What’s your ETA?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” came the reply from Artemis. “If I know you, there’s a timer up on your screen already.”

Barbara let her eyes flick to the timer, but refused to acknowledge it.

“How are you doing?” she asked instead. “Any issues with the maps of the factory I sent?”

“No, everything’s good,” Stephanie said. “I’ve been going over them, but…” The girl trailed off hesitantly.

“But we’re heading in without a lot of info,” Artemis finished, clearly not worried about possibly upsetting Barbara. “Are we just winging it?”

Barbara considered the issue slowly. She knew they didn’t have a lot to go on, and it frustrated her to no end. She was hoping that once they entered the airspace, the girls would be able to hack through Bane’s scrambling system and make contact. The island of Santa Prisca wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to make finding their four wayward birds difficult. And that was only _if_ the boys had already managed to break into the factory compound, grab the little prince _and_ get back out without getting caught. Frankly, it was a lot of _ifs_ and the odds were not fantastic. Barbara sighed heavily, catching herself just before she could rub her hands over her face.

“I wish I had a better answer for you,” she admitted, pulling up the maps for the hundredth time on her own screen. “If we’re lucky, you three will just be there to provide extra support. If we’re _really_ lucky, you’ll just be guiding them back home. Alfred got you all set up with supplies?”

“Of course he did,” Stephanie confirmed. “Sandwiches and three first aid kits.” Barbara couldn’t help the morbid laugh that spilled from her lips.

“Only three, huh?” she asked. “Who do you think isn’t going to need a personal one?”

“Damian,” Cass replied without hesitation.

“Maybe Tim,” Steph offered, her voice sounding hopeful.

“Artemis? Care to weigh in?” Barbara asked. The older girl snorted mirthlessly.

“Jay’ll need at least one,” she said. “You know he can’t avoid a fight. It goes against his moral code, or something”

Barbara laughed despite herself, but her laughter died as she considered Dick’s odds. Once upon a time, he would have never rushed in without a plan – but if it came to a fight, he was sure to be in the middle of it, sassing and flipping and using his body as a distraction. Anything to keep the focus on him instead of the people he cared about fighting beside him. And despite Damian’s sometimes abrasive nature, Dick had fallen hard for the littlest Robin and would likely charge through hell to protect him.

“Hey, like you said, maybe they won't even need us,” Stephanie interjected, her optimism cutting into Barbara’s thoughts. Barbara knew the likelihood of that: slim to none. She was about to say more when a sharp _ping_ stopped her cold. Whirling her chair around to a second monitor, Barbara let her eyes scan the screen before typing furiously at her keyboard.

“Barb?” Artemis questioned her after a minute of silence.

“Still here,” Barbara said. “Give me a second.” She worked hard to keep the emotion from her voice, a task made harder as a set of coordinates began to flash across her screen.

“What’d you got for me, Oracle?” Artemis asked, the slightest hit of anxiety creeping into her voice.

“Good news or bad news first?” Barbara offered, shaking her head in disbelief at what she was seeing. It was an SOS; a message cobbled together with both Dick and Tim’s electronic signatures, bounced off two different Wayne Tech satellites, giving it just enough juice to slice through Bane’s security systems.

“Just say it,” Artemis said. “What are we dealing with?”

“Well, the bad news is their plane’s been destroyed – but the only reason I know that is because one of them managed to get a message out. Tim, from the looks of it. I think he patched his and Dick’s computers together and it was enough to –”

“We know where they are?” Steph called excitedly, putting an end to Barbara’s attempt to explain the _how_.

“We’ve got them,” Barbara agreed. “And you’re going to have to kiss Tim for his improvisation skills. I’m uploading their coordinates to your navigation system now.” Barbara allowed her fingers to trace across the island’s map, pinpointing the location on the southeast side of the island.

“Coordinates received,” Artemis said. “There’s a bit of beach nearby. I should be able to land this thing no problem.”

“Do what you have to do,” Barbara agreed, nodding. It wasn’t necessarily stealthy, but it was the best they could hope for at this point, particularly that they now _knew_ they were playing evac. “Patch me through when you’ve made contact. I’ll comb through Tim’s message and see if I can get anything else out of it. I’ll be here if you need me, Oracle over and out.”

Barbara switched off the comm. with a satisfying ding. Slowly, she allowed the warmth in her chest to spread. They had found them – _mostly_. Whatever it was, it was a start. Maybe they’d get lucky after all.

**\- - * - -**

Cass self-identified as a watcher. It was what she did – how she learned, and how she came to better understand those around her. _Perspicacious_ , Jason had once called her. It meant that she had the ability to notice and understand things that are difficult or not obvious. She knew: she had looked it up. She did not completely agree with him though. Because, while she had no problem _seeing_ all the little details around her, _understanding_ all those little pieces could be difficult. Right now for example, there were an awful lot of details to pay attention to, and Cass knew she was missing some of the subtler meanings.

Stephanie was sitting in the copilot’s seat, her fingers busy at the keys of a small onboard navigation computer. Tim’s location was already locked in, and she was looking over the map of the surrounding area. Cass looked harder, correcting herself. One of Stephanie’s hands was at the computer, the other, glove still on, was by her mouth. She was chewing at the leather padding absently. Cass knew the nails on the hand underneath it were ragged and torn, but that it was only her left hand. It was the blonde girl’s tick – her way of admitting that she was nervous without saying it aloud.

Cass turned her eyes to the other occupant of the cockpit. The older girl was harder to read. A bit more than an hour ago, her mask had come off. She had been talking to them – to Stephanie mostly – and she had even smiled a little when she had threatened _Jay_ . Cass still wasn’t sure about the nickname. She had heard Barbara and Dick both use it when referencing the second Robin, but she wasn’t sure she liked it enough to use it. Artemis however, seemed to have no problem with it. But the blonde _was_ having a problem. Since she had finished her coffee, she had been silent, locked away again, her hands had been gripping the plane’s controls. Much like Stephanie, Artemis had her ticks.

The thumb on her left hand, bare in her fingerless gloves, thrummed with activity. It moved so fast that it nearly vibrated. Cass had seen her do this before and had done what she normally did when she was trying to understand something better: she had asked Barbara. Her friend had told her that sometimes people pick up traits from other people, particularly those they cared about. And Artemis had picked up that particular tick from the first Kid Flash.

Slowly, Cass let her fingers slip towards the pouch in her belt. She felt the two slim cylinders carefully wrapped there. This was a bad habit, and a part of her felt guilty for being a part of it, but her heart had told her it was the right thing to do.

“We’re getting close.” Stephanie called, her voice betraying her nervousness. “Their exact location is in the trees. We’ll have to find someplace else to…” she trailed off, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.

Cass watched as Artemis flipped through a few switches on the control panel. “I’ve got something,” she said. “I’m switching us into stealth mode.” With one hand the older blonde flipped her Tigress mask back onto her face. Cass followed suit, pressing her black mask over her eyes. She turned to look out her window, already picking out groups of men coming through the jungle.

“Patrols,” she announced calmly.

“I see them,” Tigress agreed, pulling the plane to the left slightly. “All right ladies, last weapons check, we’re coming in hot.”

“Ready to break things?” Stephanie whispered, turning over her shoulder to meet her eyes. Cass nodded, happy to see the little smile pulling at Stephanie’s lips.

“And bring them home.”

“And bring them home,” she agreed.

The whine of the Bat-plane’s engines died as Tigress maneuvered the technological marvel into position for landing. Cass unclipped herself from her seat and made her way to the back of the plane. Despite the stealth mode she knew it was a good idea for at least one of them to be ready to meet any enemies they might find upon landing. She held tightly to one of the straps hanging from the ceiling. Stephanie, who had followed her back, did the same.

The plane entered a steep dive, pointing its nose at the black island below. Cass tensed her body, her stance wide to prevent herself from flying backwards. She heard the slight yelp from Stephanie before the girl began to stammer.

“Uh…Tigress? The island is coming pretty fast…” The older blonde did not respond. Cass could see that there was no nervous twitch about her now; Tigress’ hands were locked in a death grip on the controls and Cass imagined her gray eyes held the same steely resolve her hands did.

Cass could hear Stephanie quietly swearing under her breath as her eyes closed tight. “Let me know when we’re not dead,” she whispered just loud enough for Cass to hear.

Tigress pulled back on the controls suddenly, and even Cass, who had been expecting the maneuver, stumbled forward slightly. It wasn’t comfortable – but it was efficient. Before the plane was fully landed, the gangway in front of Cass opened up, the dust and sand outside swirling and beginning to fill the cabin.

“Not dead,” Cass announced, seeing Stephanie’s eyes were still closed. Without waiting for a response, or for the plane to finish landing, Cass moved to let her body drop through the opening. The kicked up debris would make some nice cover for an attack, and she intended to make use of it. Once on the ground she immediately started making her way towards the trees, and the sound of clomping boots.

The men were coming for them – and they were making no secret of their pursuit, frantic shouts started peppering the air. She couldn’t understand the words they spat - but their intent was clear.

Cass ducked and rolled to her right as she entered the jungle, rising to strike the first enemy to enter her range. A fist to his throat left him in shock, giving her plenty of time to connect her foot with his temple, dropping him to the undergrowth with a soft thud. Cass moved away from him on noiseless feet.

She wanted to make this altercation as short as possible. The quicker she finished this, the quicker they could find the boys and go home. She knew that Stephanie would be disappointed that there was no one to take out her nervousness on, but Cass was worried her incredibly loud and talkative fighting style would bring them more attention. To be fair, Tigress wasn’t always a stealthy fighter either – but the sounds of her battle were more likely to be the screams of her opponents. With a halfhearted sigh, Cass snuck up behind another man, knocking him unconscious before he had the chance to yell.

Quickly, she turned and shimmed her way up a nearby tree, putting herself out of sight of the two men who had been running toward their fallen partners. Silently, she dropped behind them, her leg swinging to catch one in the knees. He buckled to the ground as the other turned, raising his weapon. Cass didn’t even have to think as she moved to strike him under the chin with the heel of her palm, his jaw closing with a satisfying _crack_ before his body slumped to the ground. The fist man tried to scramble back to his feet, but he was much too slow for her. She slammed her knee into his temple.

The jungle around her was silent now; Tigress had successfully landed the Bat-plane. The stillness gave Cass a moment to really listen. Within the space of a breath, Cass ducked down and rolled to the side as a crackle of gunfire thundered through the air. Another burst followed. They were close. Reaching into her belt, she pulled out a batarang. Without looking, she flung it to the right, away from her and away from the sound of the gunfire. It sunk into a tree with a soft _thwack_. Cass moved to her left, already grabbing for a smoke ball in her belt as the incoming men fired on the tree. She threw it between her attackers, the ball immediately coating the area in a dense black fog.

The two targets shouted and coughed in confusion as Cass leapt in between them. She didn’t need to see them to know what came next. Cass loved the darkness; it was her natural habitat. Their weakness, reliance on what they could see, was her strength. She used her other senses to pinpoint exactly where they were; an elbow to the stomach of one and a strike to the kidney of the other left both of her world-be attackers doubled over in pain. Cass moved her hands behind each of their heads and brought them together, hard. The men dropped to the ground just as the smoke screen cleared.

“Informe. ¡Equipo dieciséis, Respóndeme ya!” A radio on the belt of one of the men shouted to life. Cass immediately dropped to her knees and lowered the volume. Intelligence on Bane had suggested that his men worked in groups of eight – which meant that this team’s final members were reaching out.

“¡Pasa, Equipo dieciséis!” With the volume lowered, Cass could now hear the call twice – once from the radio and once from the two men quickly approaching her position. Turning the volume all the way off, Cass tucked the radio into her belt, slowly circling around to the two men. They were clearly the youngest of their squad; the one who had his gun lowered was visibly shaking as they crept through the jungle. Cass had no problem coming up right behind him undetected.

As he reached for his radio again, Cass turned the volume on hers back up to full, filling the air with a squeal of feedback. Both goons swung to face her, but before they could get off a shot, Cass grabbed one of the rifles pointed her way, twisting it out of the man’s hands. She swung it like a bat, the butt end striking the shocked expression off her attacker's face. Cass spun before she could watch his fall, thrusting the barrel into the radio operator. He cried out in pain and doubled over, exposing the back of his neck. Which was the perfect place for Cass to drop an elbow. Without another sound he fell. None of the unconscious men around her moved to stand.

The quiet that followed didn’t last for long, however, as both Stephanie and Tigress came running towards her position. They both stopped, staring as Cass dropped the rifle to the ground. She watched them as Stephanie’s shoulder’s sagged, and a very Artemis-like smile pulled at Tigress’s lips.

“Not bad, Black Bat,” the older girl offered, crouching down to loot the pockets of the fallen men.

“Come on, Cass,” Stephanie said with a huff. “You couldn’t just leave me one?” She was fairly certain that the other girl was joking, but Cass wasn’t sure. She had always been told to eliminate enemies as quickly as possible. She was not a fan of leaving table scraps.

“No,” Cass answered smiling.

“You are no fun.”

The older blonde stood back up, coming behind Stephanie, with one hip cocked to the side.

“I donno, I think _she_ had some fun with this.” Cass was pretty sure that this was Artemis’s version of a complement and she liked it. “Come on, we’ve got some walking to do before we hit Red Robin’s coordinates.” Cass only nodded and followed, letting Stephanie go first so she could guard them from behind.

They moved together without speaking, Tigress holding the small tracking device in her palm, leading them further in. The whole time Cass was listening carefully for sounds of Bane’s men. When a small clearing opened before them, the three women crouched down as one, eyes scanning for danger.

Cass watched as Tigress moved slowly to her feet, nodding her head towards the trees on the other side. She carefully mouthed the word _here_ before making her way into the clearing.

The almost inaudible _snap_ of a twig had Cass on her feet turning towards the sound, her batarang already raised.

“Tigress?”

Cass would recognize the sound of Tim’s voice anywhere. With a slight smile, she slowly lowered her weapon, keeping it close just in case their noises brought more unwanted attention. Stephanie, however, did not seem to be thinking that far ahead. She jumped from the ground with a short squeak.

The blonde shot past Cass at a dead sprint and leapt into the third Robin’s arms before he made it into the clearing. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms entwined around his neck before kissing him. Cass scrunched up her nose a little. Big displays of affection always made her uncomfortable, but at least Stephanie was following Barbara’s orders. Eyeing the boy carefully, Cass couldn’t see any obvious injuries and that did loosen the ache in her stomach some.

Breaking the kiss, Stephanie dropped back to her feet and punched Tim in the arm. Hard. Cass wondered briefly if she _should_ have left a bad guy for Stephanie after all.

“What the hell happened to _we do this together?”_ Stephanie demanded. Cass tuned out Tim’s jumbled explanation. She knew that there would be more scolding to come; it was going to be a long plane ride back to Gotham.

As she continued to survey the trees, Cass watched a smaller form slink out towards them: Damian, the boy his brother had come to save. He looked relatively undamaged, but something about him was different. Cass narrowed her eyes trying to place it as the young boy moved to stand in front of her and Tigress, very clearly ignoring whatever it was Tim and Steph were doing.

“Black Bat, Tigress,” he greeted them, voice low and to the point. Cass tilted her head to the side slowly, noticing that he would not look either of them in the eye. So that’s what it was, she thought. The blood son was ashamed.

“Robin, glad you are alive. Oracle has some words for you. Where are the other two idiots?” Tigress asked, her tone implying a switch back to Artemis.

Immediately, things changed. Damian very obviously said nothing and Tim moved towards them, the lines of his face tight.

“They’re this way,” he said. “I’m glad you guys are here. Our plane was destroyed and…” he trailed off, gesturing them forward with his hands. Artemis led the way, stopping abruptly after a few long legged strides.

Cass looked down, her eyes finding Jason first. He was sitting with his back pressed firmly against a tree, more tired than she had ever seen him. It was in his eyes - sharp, almost fevered - and in the way he didn’t jump up to greet them. Her next clue was the way he was breathing; it was shallow and there was a slight hiss behind it. She guessed at his injuries, her eyes picking up the blood stains.

Artemis dropped beside him without a word, her hands moving to his shoulders, where most of the blood seemed to be.

“It’s not mine,” Cass heard him whisper, his mouth by Artemis’s ear as she searched him. “ _I’m okay_ ,” he insisted, his voice sounding like a promise. “But Dick…” Cass saw at the same time Artemis did. Jason hadn’t just been resting against the tree; he’d been guarding his older brother. Cass felt her chest clenched tightly, frustrated that she hadn’t seen him sooner.

Dick’s uniform was torn and covered in blood. His lip was split and there was another open wound on his arm. Beneath his chest plate was a shallow-looking slash that appeared to have stopped bleeding, but his right leg… his knee still bled. While Jason’s breathing could have been described as strained, Dick’s was all over the place. Now that she knew to listen for it, Cass could hear the short, shallow rasps, and the antagonizing seconds where it didn’t seem to come at all. She didn’t know what to do.

Cass brought her eyes up in time to see a look pass between Jason and Artemis – one she was sure she wasn’t supposed to have seen; it felt far more intimate than even the kiss Tim and Stephanie had shared before. She wanted to look away, but she was absolutely fascinated by it – and she was afraid of where her eyes might stray.

For a moment, she saw Jason lean into Artemis’s touch before moving to stand, allowing the blonde to help him to his feet before taking his spot beside Dick. He looked back at them, his jaw clenched, before turning towards the others.

Stephanie, who had been walking hand-in-hand with Tim, released him to hug Jason tightly. The larger man’s eyes squeezed shut, but he wasn’t able to completely silence the wince that escaped his lips, giving more evidence to support Cass’ guess at a broken rib.

“Easy there, Blondie,” Jason said, pulling back from the hug. “I’m old and I hurt.” He did manage to crack a smile at his joke, but Cass could see the pain in his eyes. More had happened here, and once again, Cass felt frustrated by not being able to understand it all. She knew she was supposed to ask when there was something she didn’t get, but she knew enough to be sure _this_ was not the time.

Stephanie released Jason from her hug, shooting him a very disapproving glare from beneath her cowl. He offered her a weak smile and a shrug in return before turning his attention to Cass.

“Hey there, little shadow girl, no overtures of joy at seeing me alive?” She could tell he was being sarcastic, but she came closer to him all the same. Gently, Cass pulled Jason’s hand into hers. With everyone else’s attention elsewhere, she slid the two cigarettes from her belt and slid them into his palm.

The confusion on his face amused her. And for the first time in many hours, Cass allowed herself to smile.

**\- - * - -**

It took an effort for Jason not to laugh. He was pretty sure his body wouldn’t be able to handle it right now, but leave it to the little shadow to pull through with exactly what he needed: sweet, sweet nicotine. Palming the pair of cigarettes with the smile, he noticed they weren’t his usual brand. Jason had no idea where Cass had gotten them, but he was certainly not going to look this particular gift horse in the mouth.

“Thank you,” he whispered to her, one hand slipping into a pocket in search of something to light them with as quickly as his aching ribs would allow him to. But they were empty. 

“ _Jay._ ” Artemis’ tone froze his blood to ice water in his veins. He turned to see her hands stained with blood as she finished her once-over of Dick’s injuries. “This is bad,” she kept her voice low as he moved to stand over her. Jason only nodded.

“Help me get him back up.” He bent down to carefully pull his jacket from beneath Dick’s head, slipping it on with a wince before lifting Dick’s barely conscious body from the ground. It took everything he had not to start cursing at the pain coursing fire down his side.

“Jason, you can’t…” Artemis began to interrupt him, but stopped. He was the only one who would be able to carry Dick’s dead weight through the jungle, and they both knew it. 

“Okay,” she said, her jaw setting. “We’re just about a half a mile south.” Jason grunted an affirmative as she helped him adjust Dick so he was only over his right shoulder. It wasn’t comfortable, and it definitely screwed with his balance, but at least Dick wouldn’t be constantly bouncing against his assuredly broken ribs.

“So…” he started, trying to force insinuation into his voice, but another jolt of pain as he adjusted to carrying his older brother stopped him with a hiss. “Did you bring me a gun?” The two of them were in the rear of the group as they started back the way the girls had come. It was the closest thing to alone time he and Artemis were going to get.

Artemis cast a disdainful glance at his extended hand. “I did not,” she snorted. “But, to be fair, you didn’t bring coffee and donuts to my apartment either. I had been promised certain performances tonight that definitely did not include trudging through a villain’s private jungle. So I think we’re even.”

Jason sighed, letting his hand brush against the back of her thigh. There definitely wasn’t time for the apology she deserved, and this certainly wasn’t the appropriate place for the one he wanted to give, but he opened his mouth anyway.

“Artemis, I –”

She turned back to him, her fingers intertwining with his. “I know.” Her voice was clear; this wasn’t something they could deal with now. But even that brief contact with her hand helped the muscles in his chest loosen.

“Artemis, seriously –” he tried again, but she gently pulled her hand away before moving it to her belt.

“Here, you’ll want this.” 

Jason felt the weapon she pressed into his left hand. It was lighter than one of his preferred pistols, even unloaded, and when he glanced down he saw one of her smaller crossbows. He let out a halfhearted sigh.

“You know I hate these things. It feels like a toy.” Despite his complaints, he knew it was his best option at the moment.

“Oh, I’m aware,” Artemis answered with a smirk. After a quick glance to make sure the cohort ahead of them were still making their way toward the beach, she leaned up and planted a careful kiss on his exposed cheek. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Not dying, you ass.” Even the chuckle that escaped Jason’s lips hurt. “And I know this is going to sound mean, but is there any way you can move faster? I’d love to get out of here without running into –” Artemis stopped abruptly, shoulders tense as she spun in a slow circle.

“Hood,” she barked. “Get behind me.”

Normally, Jason would have argued with that order, but Dick’s weight on his right side stopped him. The group of them closed ranks, keeping Jason and Damian toward the center; the most protected. Jason hated that they were shielding him. But before he could say anything, the soundtrack of the jungle was interrupted by the quick chatter of gunfire. The sharp _zip zip zip_ of bullets passing much too close for comfort made Jason duck involuntarily, his side screaming a protest.

He turned in time to see a group of Bane’s goons charging toward them through the trees. Without thinking, Jason raised his left arm and fired. The dart sailed past the goon he’d been aiming for. Cursing at having to use his non-dominant hand and adjust for Dick’s weight, he fired again. This time the dart sunk itself into the man’s thigh and he dropped to the muddy jungle floor with a scream. It hadn’t been exactly where Jason was aiming, but it would do.

The group began running toward the beach. Well, running wasn’t the correct term. Tim was turning every few feet to make sure Damian was still keeping up, and he was stumbling along with Dick on his shoulder. Between the uneven jungle floor, his older brother throwing off his balance, and pain searing through his ribs like a hot iron every time he moved, a gamely trot felt like an Olympic sprint of Herculean effort. Jason tried to shoot any goons he saw with Artemis’s borrowed crossbow, but he knew he was missing many more shots than he hit.

Miniature sonic booms continued to crack around him as Bane’s men pursued them through the jungle. He heard a scream to his left and saw the flash of a bad guy getting disappeared by what he could only describe as _a shadow_. His first thought would have been Bruce, but given the Bats present on the island, he knew it was Cass. Stephanie was sticking close to Tim and Damian, her bo staff swinging in wide swaths through the jungle to keep them both safe. And Artemis moved through the foliage at the front of the group like her namesake, crouching and springing on unsuspecting enemies, a crossbow held in each hand as she calmly fired into the overgrowth.

A body slamming into him brought Jason back to the moment. He didn’t have a chance to suppress his yell mixed with surprise and pain as his right shoulder crashed into a large tree, Artemis’ borrowed crossbow clattering to the ground. Jason crumpled against jungle fauna, his breathing labored and pain coursing through his body. Dick’s weight wasn’t helping.

The man in dark green military fatigues moved closer, a sadistic smile creasing his face. That smile triggered something inside of him. Something he hadn’t felt, hadn’t given into, since Europe. A red haze started to tinge the edges of his vision. For weeks after the Pit, he’d lived in this haze, reveled in it. But it had gotten better. _He_ had gotten better. And while it wasn’t always easy, for the past year Jason had mostly been able to keep it at bay. But now… it was too much. Now, he gave in willingly.

The goon closed the distance with anticipation, falling for Jason’s feint against the tree. When he was in range, Jason lashed out, his foot connecting with the inside of the thug’s knee. He didn’t need to hear the scream or see the leg bend in a completely contrarian way to know he hit his mark. Ignoring the screaming pain in his side, Jason bent down to grab the pistol from the man’s waist and stood, firing a single shot into him without looking.

Slowly at first, then faster, Jason began moving through the jungle in the rough direction of the plane. But that wasn’t his goal. No, his only goal was to satisfy the voice in his head that was back, the voice that had been so strong after the Pit, the one he had managed to reduce to whispers in the back of his mind when he went to sleep. But now it had returned with a vengeance, screaming through a megaphone just inches from his ear, demanding satisfaction. It wanted blood, it assured him power, and swore to him that all his pain would be vindicated if he killed every single person between him and the plane.

His vision flashed red, his blood pounded in his ears like a thousand war drums, and Jason gave in. He would give Death her due.

Nothing mattered now. Despite his off-hand, despite Dick on his shoulder, despite the pain. Nothing. Mattered. Jason felt invincible and wanted to break every bone in the bodies of the men who were still coming for him and his family.

The gun spat fire and hot lead, the barrel jumping in his hand in a satisfying and familiar way. Jason didn’t bother counting his shots. He knew by feel when the magazine was empty. It wasn’t hard to find another gun once his current one was out of bullets. These goons were all too happy to oblige getting close to him, where they were met with a gunshot to the chest or, if they were lucky, a pistol smashed into their faces.

Jason broke through the tree line out onto the beach. He could see the plane parked in front of him, his family scrambling onboard. And then a bullet crackled past Jason’s face and embedded itself in the tree next to him. He heard the voice again, whispering _kill_ in his ear.

Jason locked eyes with the man as he raised his rifle to fire again.

Without consciously thinking about it, he let Dick roll off his shoulder and drop to the sand. The toes of Jason’s boots dug into the soft earth, sprinting toward the man. The goon, caught off guard by the sudden charge, fired wildly, bullets spraying sand up at his feet. _Kill._ The voice was louder now, almost laughing in his head.

Jason planted his foot in the sand and launched himself into the air. There was no pain. There was nothing but the man in front of him and red. His flying knee connected with the henchmen chest, driving him back into the ground, where Jason landed on top of him. The crack he heard under his knee only served as the soundtrack for the voice in his head, now screaming with maniacal intensity. _Kill. Kill. KILL._

There were no thoughts. Only instinct. His fingers wrapped around the rifle, ignoring the heat from the barrel as he raised it above him. There was no pain the first time he brought the stock down on the goon’s head. There was no pain any of the subsequent times either.

A hand grabbed his collar. Dropping the rifle in one smooth motion, he pulled the pistol from the downed man’s belt and spun on his knee, raising the gun to make quick work of whoever was stupid enough to put their hands on him.

“Hood!” A familiar voice cut through Death screaming in his mind. The red haze faltered, flashing just long enough to catch a glimpse of orange and black. Stormy grey eyes rife with concern at the gun barrel pointed at her forehead.

He felt hands move from his collar to his neck, nails digging into his skin. “ _Come back to me, Jay._ I need you. I need you to come back to me.” Her voice had dropped to almost a whisper, but it was loud enough to shake the final vestiges of red from his vision. It was replaced by a shaking hand covered in crimson holding the gun, which he immediately dropped to the sand.

“ _Artemis,_ ” he breathed, just starting to comprehend what he would have done to her if…

“Help me get Nightwing. We need to get on the plane. _Now._ ”

With his adrenaline crashing, the pain returned, more ferocious than before. Jason stumbled through the sand to where Artemis had managed to drag Dick after he had dropped him. She moved his older brother to a sitting position and began to drape him over his right shoulder again. Jason stood much slower than before, biting back a yelp of pain. Straightening, he saw a thug rushing out of the tree line, rifle already raised.

_This is it_ , he thought. He had no weapons, nowhere to go. Exposed on the sand with no hope of making a mad dash for the plane. He involuntarily turned his body away from the man, shielding Dick and looking toward Artemis one last time.

Which is when a knife went sailing past his face. He heard the sound of metal and flesh colliding, and the man let out a strangled yell before falling to the sand, clutching his stomach. “Hood, come on. We need to go.”

Jason followed after her, staggering. He watched as she raced over to the final thug he’d downed, picking up the pistol he had almost used on her in a slide, firing into the woods from one knee. She retreated, her back against his, protecting him as he stumbled up the gangway.

“Up!” she screamed over the roar of the engines. Someone must have heard her, because no sooner had she hit the button to close the hatch – they were in the air.

Without a word, she led him back to where someone, Steph probably, had already set up blankets on the floor. Artemis helped him to lower Dick onto the makeshift bed, before pushing him back to sit on the floor as well.

All of the pain he’d been able to forget about flooded his senses; Jason tired and failed to suppress a groan as the plane titled, angling into the sky. His eyes were still closed, but he could feel her hands as Artemis gently pulled the domino mask from his face, thumbs brushing against his cheekbones.

“I’m going to send the kids back to help you,” she whispered, her voice coming out a little rough. “Leave the flying to me.”

More than anything, Jason wanted her to stay. He was ready to beg, to apologize a million times for all the ways in which he had messed things up, but by the time he could pry his eyes open, she was gone, and the only other person in the back with him was Cass, her dark eyes taking in everything.

Jason briefly considered dragging himself to his feet and chasing after her, but before he could work up the energy, the aforementioned _kids_ had arrived. Tim and Steph stood together, both of them eyeing him carefully. And even Damian, his small body pressed into the doorway of the cockpit, kept glancing uneasily between him and Dick. He wondered how much they had seen. Before any of them could speak a low dinging filled the air, the sound of Barbara’s voice following.

“Batgirl,” she sounded a lot calmer than Jason would have expected. “Lenses down, I’d like a visual please.” The girl in question lowered the lenses on her cowl, turning her head slowly to take in each of them. She hesitated before looking down towards Jason, and finally to Dick.

In that moment, Jason didn’t envy the blonde; she would not have the luxury of looking away. Out of respect, none of them said a word at the sharp gasp that came from the overhead speakers.

“Artemis said…” Barbara started and then stopped, clearing her throat before coming back into full control of herself. “Right. I’m patching Dr. Thompkins through now. She’ll be able to talk us through her recommended first response. Tim, Steph, the two of you have been working with her and Alfred the most, so you’re in charge.”

Without waiting for the full connection, the two of them sprang into action, taking the first aid kits as Cass handed them over. Jason watched Tim as knelt beside Dick, slowly, _carefully_ , beginning to straighten out his body.

While the plane could undoubtedly fly itself home, Jason was not at all surprised that Artemis remained at the controls. This was one of those things she needed to avoid, and he couldn’t blame her.

“Oh my,” Dr. Thompkins’s voice over the intercom pulled Jason’s attention back from where the older blonde sat, her back rigid. The woman began rattling off questions faster than Jason could keep up with, but Tim and Steph didn’t seem to mind, both of them taking turns answering to the best of their abilities, while their hands ran over Dick’s unconscious form. Nothing they said was a surprise.

Dick’s pulse was erratic. His breathing labored, and _yes_ , his temperature was currently elevated, but he was sweating a lot, so Steph didn’t know how long that would last. 

Tim explained what had happened in short clipped phrases: the drugs that Dick had been pumped full of and the damage that he had sustained to his knee. It was clear that he had lost blood, but most of his wounds were trying to congeal – and if they didn’t move him too much then…

Jason tuned out again, his eyes falling closed. He didn’t need to hear this, his mind begging to escape, to close off, exhausted without the added Pit energy moving through his veins. There was nothing he could do but think back through it all, looking for the moments where he could have been better, and that was a dangerous black hole he just didn’t have the energy for. 

“Right,” Jason heard Dr. Thompkins say, satisfied with the information they had provided. “Last question, have any of you tried to give him anything?” It took Cass nudging his leg for Jason to realize that everyone was staring at him.

“No,” he responded, his voice cracking. “No, he was awake for a few minutes and I tried to get him to drink some water but…” Jason trailed off, his mind bringing him back to the look of panic on Dick’s face as he had fought to remain conscious before letting the nightmares take him again.

“That’s fine, Jason, thank you. Rest – you look like you need it.” Jason just shrugged, glad when everyone’s attention was off of him again.

“Land at home; I’ll be contacting Alfred and arrange for transport to the lockdown wing of Gotham General. Do what you can to dress the wounds and keep him comfortable. Only sedate him if he becomes a danger to himself or you.”

Jason swore quietly. He had known it was a long shot, but he’d really, _really_ , been hoping the doc would just be meeting them at the cave. He caught the tail end of her explaining that she’d have a cover story worked out for them by the time they landed and that she expected them to all be in civilian clothes by the time they hit the hospital – and that she expected _all_ of them to be there. The good doctor didn’t bother signing off; as soon as she’d said her piece, her end of the conversation went dark. She would be leaving nothing for debate.

“You heard her,” Barbara’s voice came back loud and clear. “You’ll take the SUV from the manor to the hospital. I’ll be there when you arrive, just to finish smoothing everything over.” Jason suspected that her sudden, albeit familiarly bossy tone was an attempt to hide the way her voice was shaking. It might have fooled the kids, but there was no way she was going to slip it past him.

Stephanie flipped the lenses of her cowl up before removing it entirely. Carefully, Jason watched as she pulled the comm link from the hood and handed it towards him.

“She wants to talk to just you,” she offered, dumping the small device into his open hand. Jason frowned, but fixed it into his ear.

“Hood?” He glanced around and saw that everyone else was already starting to move away, engrossed in their various tasks, and he knew he was the only one she was speaking to right now.

“Yeah?” He asked softly. If any of the others heard him, they chose to ignore it. Every one of them knew what it was like to have the voice of Oracle in their head.

“ _Jay?_ ” Her voice was even quieter now, the tremble more clear. Jason figured her whole body was probably shaking right now, and the thought of her all alone in her tower made his heart ache. A part of him wanted to give her Dick’s apology – to tell her that the last time the guy was conscious she was all he could talk about – but he stopped. It wouldn’t help her. Jason sighed heavily, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“I’m here, Barbie,” he offered instead.

“You’re going to have to get his uniform off, with the drugs he might…”

“I know,” Jason offered. He knew he had to be the one to do it. If Dick started swinging, no matter how unlikely _that_ was, it should be at him taking the hit, not one of the kids.

“Do you… do you know how to disarm the security locks on Nightwing’s armor, or do you need me to walk you through it?” Barbara asked.

Jason noticed she’d yet to use _Dick’s_ real name and briefly wondered about the last time Barbara had had to disarm the locks, but he knew better than to ask. He hesitated just long enough to pull his own gloves from his hands.

“I’ve got it,” he promised, fingers reaching out to a small panel on Dick’s right wrist – to where the master “off switch” had been since they were kids, no matter what uniform Dick Grayson had had on. Without looking down, Jason let his fingers type in the password: **0923BG**. Barbara Gordon’s birthday. Jason couldn’t help the huff of laughter that caught in his chest when the green light flashed, signaling the all clear. “Code’s still good,” he told her. Barbara didn’t say anything, but Jason knew she was still there.

Carefully, he began peeling the mask from Dick’s face, pushing the older boy’s bangs out of the way. Just as Jason had gotten it off completely, his hands already moving to the gauntlets, Dick’s face contorted in pain – an audible groan falling from his lips – one that sounded an awful lot like _Babs._

_Fuck_. Jason froze, not sure what to do.

“I’ve got to go,” Barbara said quickly, and Jason nodded even though he knew she couldn’t see him. “I’ll meet you all at the drop site.” And with that the line in his ear went silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The emotional TW from the top is infidelity. I was always grimly fascinated by the infidelity that Dick and Babs were involved with in the comics and I wanted to have something _akin_ to that mirrored in this story universe. There are _at least_ two prequel stories in the works that will be involving the original character of Doctor Wesley Malloren - in fact one of these stories features the _incident_ that is mentioned in chapter one. 
> 
> _Anyway_ how are you doing? We appreciate you guys so much - and all your comments and kudos and book marks have meant the world to us. Be kind to yourself 💛
> 
> If you want make new friends (or yell at me) you can find me on tumblr [as gothamsgrace](https://gothamsgrace.tumblr.com/) and I'm over on the [Bat Family 18+ discord](https://discord.com/channels/698424239773974618/699861012366753843) created by the amazing sElkieNight60.
> 
> See you guys next week!


	9. Chapter Nine: Trying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the boys are out of continued danger, they all must play a waiting game. Everyone is trying in their own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all - sorry this is getting out a little later and that it is a little shorter. We had to make some decisions on where to cut the sections up for the sake of flow and to give you a little bit of an emotional rest. This chapter is a little bit softer and some people might actually _talk_ about the way they're feeling. _Maybe_.

**Chapter Nine: Trying**

[ _Dick_ | _Barbara_ | _Stephanie_ ]

There were plenty of places that Dick Grayson didn’t like, but Gotham General Hospital was at the top of his list. He hated how it smelled, metal and cleaning products trying to cover up the pain and desperation. He hated the way the colors were all muted, as though the whitewashed walls could make up for the whispered voice and people trying not to cry. Nothing about hospitals made any sense to Dick, and he was grateful he’d been able to avoid them for most of his life. But not tonight. Tonight there was no avoiding it – he had run too long. _This_ was where he needed to be.

He hadn’t been able to fly into Gotham proper – not without a passport. He’d flown into Blüdhaven, rented a motorcycle and had gotten into the city as fast as the bike could go. Dick had considered stopping by the manor, but decided against it. There’d be too many questions he just couldn’t answer right now. Dick knew he would be useless until he’d seen her.

The headlines all said that she’d survived, but being alive and being okay were two very different things. Dick checked his burner phone again; the first article he’d found popping up on his screen: _Daughter of Gotham City Police Commissioner Jim Gordon Shot; In Critical Condition._

The first time he had read it, his brain had short-circuited. Even now when reading the headline wasn't a surprise, Dick could feel his fingers going numb and his chest tightening.

A part of him hated that the papers never mentioned her name – just that she was the commissioner’s daughter – but, logically he knew that was for the best. The way it was being reported – that she’d been attacked because of who her dad was – Dick knew the pieces of that story didn’t all fit nicely together.

The papers said she’d been shot on her way to a late dinner with a friend. It had been in a rougher part of Gotham, the supposed diner still a few blocks away. And Babs was smarter than that. There was no reason Barbara Gordon would have been there – but if he was right, and Dick knew he was – there was more than likely a reason _Batgirl_ had been there. The city, however, had just kept on going; not knowing that one of their fiercest protectors had been wounded in the line of duty.

Dick struggled to get his breathing back under control. He should have been there. He should have been with her, watching her back, _but instead…_

With a shaking breath, Dick fired his grappling gun towards the hospital. He landed with a soft thud on the ledge outside her window. Getting her room number had been easier than it should have been. He’d called the hospital, pretending to be a cousin she didn’t have, assured the nurse that _no_ , he wasn’t planning on visiting, he’d just wanted to send some flowers and hadn’t wanted to bother her father. Parts of the ruse had been true; he hadn’t wanted to bother Commissioner Gordon, and he did have flowers… not that that made up for anything.

He scanned the room quickly before picking the lock at the window. Barbara was alone, a sheet covering her, while at least three machines beeped rhythmically, tracking her vitals. He moved towards her in the moonlight, the crashing sound of his own heart filling his ears.

_What if?_ What if she never woke up? What if he never got the chance to tell her how sorry he was? How stupid and selfish he had been?

Dick set the flowers down beside her pillow, his finger trailing over her pale cheek as he did.

“Hey Babs,” he whispered, his voice cracking. He let his hand trail down to hers, lacing their fingers together just like they had done so many times before. “I’m sorry...I should have been here - should have been with you.”

Dick squeezed his eyes shut, remembering the last time he had seen her. She had been strong and confident, standing with the team. He had been so sure leaving was the right choice to make – but she had finally said she had loved him and he…

“I’m here Babs, I’m here,” he said, fingers tightening. “Last I read, you hadn’t woken up yet, but you have to, okay? I have so much to tell you.” Dick swallowed hard. “I am so sorry.” He could feel the tears stinging his eyes. He had let her down. He had failed her. He had…

“I know I messed up,” he murmured, leaning down to press his lips to her temple. “But I’m here. I’m here now and you – ”

The sound of the doorknob twisting sent Dick’s heart racing. Without a thought, he bolted for the window, throwing himself out onto the ledge. It took all of his self-control to stay frozen and silent in the shadows as he heard tired, heavy footsteps track into the room. He was pretty sure he knew who it was as they moved towards Barbara’s bed, paused, and then walked to the open window.

“It’s okay,” the man said, his voice exhausted. “It’s okay if you don’t want to see me right now, Bruce.”

Dick had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise. Jim Gordon was standing less than a foot away from him, thinking Batman, _Bruce_ , was just outside, knowing full well how his daughter had gotten hurt. Dick wasn’t in costume; his leather jacket just thrown on over his t-shirt and jeans. If the man bothered to look out, there would be no hiding exactly who he was. Dick considered coming clean. Jim had always liked him well enough before… if he could just explain, maybe he’d even let Dick stay.

“I want you to know, I don’t blame you, Bruce,” the older man went on. “I don’t love that they’ve all been doing it since they were kids, it has always been dangerous. You know that better than anyone I suspect. But Barbara’s an adult now. I know she made this decision on her own. She was doing what she felt she had to; God knows this city draws people in like that. And I know… I know you did everything for her that you could…” There was a long pause and Dick was just about to pull forward, when the Commissioner’s shaking sigh stopped him.

“But if you see that boy of yours,” Dick froze at the chill in Jim’s voice. “You tell him. You tell him to stay the hell away from my daughter.” Dick felt his knees go weak, his foot sliding on the ledge. “I know he felt like he had to go, but it’s been a _year_ for Christ’s sake. She hasn’t heard from him _in a year_ – and I thought _this_ would have been enough to finally get his ass back home… and he. He never should have left… if he loved her… _if he’d been there_ …”

Dick felt every word like a punch to the gut and it took everything in him to stand as still as possible under the onslaught. He deserved it; he knew he did. It’s what a little voice in his head had been screaming at him since he’d first found out what had happened, but hearing someone else – hearing _Jim Gordon_ saying it out loud, it was…

“You tell him that Barbara deserves better.” Dick heard him move closer, and he was sure that Jim was going to stick his head out and see him. He didn’t know what he was going to do. What _could_ he do? Everything Jim Gordon had said was true. But instead of looking out, the commissioner slammed the window shut, the lock clicking back into place with a deafening finality.

Dick felt like he was going to be sick, like everything inside of him was finally going to rise up and strangle him, but instead he heard her voice inside his head.

_Three things_ , it whispered. _Three things, stay with me._

But he couldn’t. Dick couldn’t stay. Her father was right; Barbara deserved better than him. Dick didn’t let himself look back – he didn’t deserve to. He fired his grappling hook across the street. Already his mind was flying through possibilities. He would have to get a hold of Jason, and get back to Europe. His money was gone, but he couldn’t stay here. Gotham wasn’t home anymore.

\- -*- -

Barbara swore. Over and over again, she let as many curse words as she knew spill from her mouth while clenching her hands, nails biting crescent moons into her palms. When she was done with English, she transitioned into all the other languages she knew: Vietnamese, Atlantian, Mandarin, Spanish, French, German, and Arabic, just for good measure. She breathed in as deeply as she could, willing herself not to cry. It would slow her down, and there were things she needed to do.

Locking her jaw, Barbara forced herself into the present, doing everything she could not to dwell on the images dancing in the back of her consciousness. The blood, the way his body writhed in pain, the way _her name_ had sounded as it fell from his bloodied mouth…

“ _Fuck_ ,” she hissed, her fist slamming down on the arm of her chair. Without pausing to breathe again, Barbara spun over to one of her monitors and began the process of linking over to the _emergency number_. Briefly, she wondered whether Alfred had already made this call but let that thought slide as soon as it came. Al would have trusted the boys to do the right thing. At least two of them were adults- _ish_ and he wanted to treat them as such. If nothing else, he would have warned Barbara before he’d done it. Before she could talk herself out of it, Barbara hit send, cutting her into Bruce’s off-world comm line. This call should have been made over three hours ago.

“B – ” she started as soon as the channel clicked open. “The boys they… I know I should have called sooner, but we wanted to fix this and you’re with the League… and…” Barbara despised the voice she heard coming out of her mouth. She loathed the uncertainty; the way that admitting failure to him made her feel like she was fifteen again. All she wanted was for the words to come out clear and concise, but she couldn’t even manage to spit out the facts of the situation.

“I know,” Bruce said, his voice level and clear. _Of course. Of course he knew_. “I’m on my way.” _Of course he was._ “I’m still a few hours out, but…” Barbara heard it then, the faintest of cracks to his voice. There was an anxiety she had only seen a few times. An honesty that slowed the relentless hammering of her own heart.

“Do I – ” she paused to clear her throat. “Do I want to know who got a hold of you?” 

“Where am I meeting you?” he asked, pointedly ignoring her question.

“By the time you get here, we should be at Gotham General,” she said, her voice small, but she knew Bruce would hear her. She listened to his control slip with an exhausted sigh.

“It’s that bad.” It wasn’t a question. They would never risk their identities like this if it weren’t absolutely necessary. In fact, the last time any of them had been to the hospital was two years ago - and then it had been Barbara who’d spent weeks in the ICU. She gripped the arms of her chair to ground her.

“Doctor Thompkins is already setting up a cover story and having the private wing locked down,” she said, her voice even.

“Where is Leslie now?”

“I’m not sure, I had her patched through using Stephanie’s cowl lenses.”

“So you’ve seen them?” Bruce asked abruptly. She could hear his tone wavering again and she wished that he would just ask her what he really wanted to and get it over with.

“Tim is fine, Damian looks exhausted… his movements are a little jerky. I think they drugged him,” Barbara closed her eyes, seeing each of the boys in turn. She gave him the report he wanted, but wouldn’t ask for. “Jason is banged up but he’s… _managing_. There was a lot of blood on him, but I don’t think…” her breath caught in her chest as she remembered. “It wasn’t his.” 

Barbara worked to swallow the lump forming in her throat as her memory zeroed in on Dick. She couldn’t say it. How could she explain to Bruce the mess that was his oldest? The way his breathing shook his whole body – or the way his eyes darted back and forth behind closed lids.

“Dick’s the one who needs the hospital.” Batman’s voice cut through her mind with surgical precision, bringing her back to the moment.

“He…” but Barbara still didn’t know what to say. She knew Bruce’s mind was probably stuck on the time when Dick was ten and Harvey – _Two-Face_ – had gone after him with a baseball bat. She was grateful that wasn’t a memory she knew first hand. Only the leftover scars haunted her.

“I know this is difficult,” Bruce said, his voice rough with exhaustion. “What information can you give me?” He was like her in situations like this; even though there wasn't a damn thing he could do, Bruce wanted to know the details. He wanted to dissect them, just in case there was something someone else missed, some way he could be useful. Barbara knew there wasn’t. She’d been playing this game all night. With a deep breath, Barbara detached. Her voice turned cold, clinical – a trick she’d learned from the Bat himself.

“Scarecrow and Bane created something they’re calling Nightmare Toxin. From the sounds of it, it’s one of Crane’s recipes spliced with Venom. I won’t know more until I get my hands on a sample.” She was in survival mode now, packing every emotion into its own little box and shoving into the furthest corners of her mind.

“According to Red Robin, Crane claimed it fed off adrenaline. They used Nightwing as a guinea pig.” She had unconsciously switched to code names; once she realized it, Barbara knew she should have been using them all along. It made it so this was happening to heroes – because heroes were always supposed to come out on top. Heroes could be damaged, but they didn’t break. Barbara sunk her teeth into her bottom lip knowing damn well how much of a lie it was.

“I assume he’s not reacting well to the poison.” Bruce said, pulling out of her momentary self-loathing.

“No. He’s in pain, a lot. His breathing and pulse are…” Barbara trailed off, briefly wondering how the toxin was interacting with Dick’s anxiety, but she shook her head. She hadn’t seen him lose control since before he left. 

She’d asked about it once and only once since he and Jason had been home. Dick had said he was fine; he’d been lying, she knew that, but the gaping cavern of a distance between them hadn’t given her the right to pry and she didn’t have the luxury of time to think about it now. “Nightwing sustained some serious-looking physical damage as well,” she added, pulling herself back. “But the others weren’t real forthcoming on the _how_ of that.” She hated that there were pieces of this puzzle she didn’t know.

“You’ll be there with Leslie?” Bruce asked, the slightest, almost imperceptible, hitch to his voice. He needed her to be there, but he wouldn’t say it aloud.

“Yes,” she responded tightly. “With Alfred. We’ll keep everything going smoothly until you get there.” 

Bruce was stalling and they both knew it. Instead of making her nervous, however, Bruce’s own uncertainty brought her some measure of peace. If even the Batman couldn’t have it all together, then no one could fault _her_ for feeling like she was falling apart. 

“I never thought there’d come a day when he stopped listening to _you_ ,” Bruce sighed, suddenly catching her off guard.

“I don’t...”

“No,” Bruce interrupted her, his frustration showing. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair or appropriate.”

“It’s fine,” she said automatically. _He was sorry?_ No matter how much he’d been trying to do better lately, Bruce apologizing still felt like a harbinger of the apocalypse. She caught herself just before she could rub her hands over her face. The silence between them dragged on about ten seconds longer than it should have, the sound of Bruce’s unsteady breathing, his worry searing into her mind.

“You need to know two things,” Bruce said, his voice back to its impeccable calm. “There is no possible way that this is your fault. None.”

“I…” She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed to hear him say that. And as much as she hated that she still needed his approval, she was relieved by it.

“And second, he is sorry he left. I know he’s done a poor job of showing it, but that’s at least in part on me. I’ve never been very good at dealing with emotions head on. And I should have done more to bring him home, you were right. There’s a lot I should have done differently with each of them, and with you. And I’m trying.”

Barbara didn’t know quite how to process this last thing. Her mind began spinning off in all kinds of directions, pulling clips of conversations and lessons from her time as Batgirl, as Oracle, trying to give her something to say in return, but nothing came.

“He loves you, not that that requires anything of you in return, but he does all the same.”

“I… I…” Barbara stammered again, her mind blanker than it had ever been as her heart beat so hard she was sure Bruce could hear it through the communications line.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital,” Bruce said finally, saving her from trying to form coherent thoughts. “Batman, over and out.” His comm link clicked off, leaving her alone with the electric hum of her computers and nothing more.

**\- - * - -**

Steph was trying. She was trying so very, _very_ hard to smile. Or at the very least, she was trying not to cry. She opened and closed her palms over and over again, trying to think of something to do. Ever since Jason had tossed the comm link back to her, she was at a loss. Normally, she would be trying everything she could to bring some lightness into the moment, just a little bit of… _optimism_ , but looking around her, even she couldn’t find any.

Jason was crouched over Dick, slowly prying his armor off piece by piece. Tim was standing nearby, one of the med kits clutched in his hands. She knew she could offer to help, but she was terrified of being in the way. Behind her, she heard Cass dragging their duffle bags full of civilian clothes from their storage container. She turned to her, eyeing the six different bags as they were splayed across the floor.

“Here,” she whispered, reaching for the one trimmed in blue. Together, they dug around in the bag for the loosest clothes they could find.

“Can I get a different knife?” Jason called, tossing away the blade that had clearly failed him. Steph reached for the pouch on her belt, but Cass was quicker, offering up three different options. Jason eyed them a minute before picking one and leaning back over Dick.

“What’s it for?” Steph asked, not particularly sure she was going to like the answer.

“I gotta cut some of this off,” Jason offered, already carefully tracing the blade against what remained of Dick’s uniform. “Are those his?” He asked, eyeing the clothes she was clutching to his chest.

Stephanie nodded, moving closer with her arms outstretched, but Jason stopped her, nodding towards Cass.

“Cut open the right leg,” he instructed. “His jeans are too damn tight for me to be able to get his leg in properly.” Steph did as she was told, holding the denim tight, nodding to the right leg so that Cass could slice it open with one of her remaining knives.

“Alright,” Jason said as he motioned to both Tim and Steph. “You two are going to help me get him into these damn things, and you,” he nodded towards Cass, “are going to be my look out. If you think for even a second that he might start swinging, you let me know.”

Cass nodded back at him, moving her intense focus onto Dick’s body.

“How, uh…” Steph cleared her throat, moving forward anyway. “How likely is that to happen?”

“Don’t know, don’t want to risk it,” Jason answered through a clenched jaw. He was already moving to prop Dick up so Tim and Steph could slip the jeans up his legs.

“The drugs make him hallucinate,” Tim whispered to her. “There’s a chance he’ll come to and think he’s being attacked.”

“Right,” Steph murmured back. Her chest tightened as Dick’s body reacted to being moved. He sounded so impossibly broken; she didn’t know how they’d put him back together.

“Looser clothes from now on,” Cass said as she handed Jason a zip-up hoodie they’d found in the bag as well.

“Good call,” he agreed darkly as he quickly threaded Dick’s arms through the sleeves and left it open. They hadn’t bothered with a shirt underneath. Stephanie’s eyes glanced down at three little birds that dotted Dick’s chest. Her lips quirked a little bit. She was sure Dick had heard Bruce’s speech on tattoos before, and this little hint of rebellion warmed her heart, but only for a second. They were a spark of personality alright, but they were smeared bloody, the slash beneath them open and bleeding once again. 

“We should cover that,” she whispered, moving to hand Tim a pair of gloves, a packaged antibacterial wipe, and gauze.

“Yeah,” Tim agreed. “Yeah, we would have tried to stop the bleeding. I don’t know what Doc Thompkins is going to say but…” Stephanie listened to him trail off. She knew this was something she could help with, but watching Tim, she also knew he needed to do it on his own. 

If he could focus all of his energy into this, then there wouldn’t be enough brain space for him to start panicking. She shifted a pair of med kits closer to him. Steph envied his ability to flip the switch so quickly. One minute he’d been standing nervously, shifting from foot to foot. The next, Tim Drake was completely in control, focused, calm, At least on the outside. On the inside she figured he was still probably freaking out; she’d be there for him later when he crashed, but there was nothing more she could do now.

Stephanie turned away, doing her best to ignore the sounds of Dick’s labored breathing and the occasional muted whimper that came from him while Tim cleaned him up. She turned her eyes on Jason, who had managed to move himself out of the way, but not yet up off the ground.

“Do you want a hand?” she asked him, but he shook his head.

“I want a cigarette, a glass of stupidly expensive bourbon, and forty-eight hours of sleep,” he answered roughly, his head already leaning back against the side of the plane. “But I will settle for twenty minutes.” Stephanie continued to watch him, seeing the way he clenched his jaw uneasily. Jason looked beyond exhausted. She knew he’d rest better after changing his clothes and probably getting some water in him, but she also knew better than to push.

“Seriously,” he muttered, eyes closed. “Someone wake me back up in twenty.” Stephanie wasn’t sure he’d even gotten the words all the way out before he’d fallen asleep. That was a Bat-skill she had not yet mastered.

“Right,” she mumbled, taking in everything before her. She noticed the way that Jason was still within an arm’s reach of Dick, and that Tim was talking to himself as he slowly and carefully tried to clean out each of the older boy’s wounds. She made eye contact with Cass, who at some point had slipped out of her Black Bat uniform and into a pair of leggings with a slip-over dress.

“I’ll watch,” the other girl whispered. “You help.” She nodded her head towards Damian, who hadn’t moved since he’d gotten on the plane.

With a sigh, Stephanie turned towards him, willing all of the anxiety from her face. The kid was pressed, motionless, against the wall of the plane. In that moment, he looked every bit the scared eleven-year-old child he was.

Carefully, she weighed her options. A direct attack would likely end with her getting her head bitten off, and while she did want to comfort the kid, Stephanie was _not_ willing to become his punching bag. With a nod, she moved past him, back to her duffle bag, and quickly changed her clothes. When she was done, she went for the coffee maker, carefully setting it to make hot chocolate instead. While it did its thing, she scrounged around in Damian’s duffle, pulling out a pair of perfectly tailored dark jeans and a black sweater. She sighed heavily, vowing that when they got back, she’d find him some _actual_ kids’ clothes. With the steaming mug of coco in hand, she made her way back towards him.

“Get changed, kiddo,” she said, handing him the clothes when he finally turned to face her. “I made you coco too.”

“I don’t need your patronizing, Brown,” he sniffed, but Stephanie noticed it lacked his usual hostility. He sounded tired too.

“No,” she agreed. “But you’re probably feeling angry and a little bit scared.” She watched as he tensed, his mouth open on the verge of arguing. “I know I’m scared,” she said looking out over the others. “And I think Jason is too.”

“Todd appears to be sleeping,” Damian offered, his voice low. Stephanie knew she needed to give him something to do, a way to feel useful.

“He looks it,” she agreed, “but he’s only half out. See?” She pointed out the way Jason’s hand was still moving restlessly against his hip. While he was distracted, she handed Damian the mug, pleased that he didn’t fight her.

“And what does that have to do with me?” Damian asked.

“I bet,” she said shrugging, “if in a few minutes, you went over and offered to switch places with him, he might actually do some looking after himself.”

Stephanie knew what she was doing was risky. A part of her was adamantly against the kid keeping vigil by Dick’s side, but she was also pretty sure he wasn’t planning on looking away any time soon. With that in mind, the offer of switching with Jason would give him a purpose – even if he did eventually fall asleep too.

“Perhaps,” the boy whispered finally, and Steph knew that was the best she was going to get from him.

“Good,” she responded, placing a hand on his shoulder tentatively. “Drink your coco.” She knew it was a testament to how tired he was, but she could have sworn she felt the hellion lean into her touch. Satisfied in a way she knew she couldn’t say out loud, Stephanie stood with him, letting him press his small shoulder into her hands without a word.

She would have stayed like that for as long as he wanted, but the sound of someone trying very hard not to cry behind her caught her ears from behind. It was a sound Stephanie was intimately familiar with and she couldn’t help the way her heart called out to comfort the final member of their crew.

Slowly, so as not to startle the kid, Steph pulled herself away, moving with all her bat-stealth towards the cockpit. Her eyes widened in empathy at what she saw. Artemis Crock sat before her, almost catatonic, the Tigress mask tossed to the side, and her gray eyes locked out the front windshield, seeing absolutely nothing. Stephanie knew that there were things in this world that she could not fix. That there were traumas that couldn’t be lessened with chocolate and hugs – hell she had some of her own – but that was what made her most qualified to _try_.

Before she could change her mind, she turned, dug through hers and Cass’s bags until she was holding an extra pair of leggings and a top that would fit the older blonde well enough. With only a second’s hesitation, she unzipped Jason’s bag as well, pulling out a black hoodie. She flipped the coffee maker on again, this time having it make the darkest coffee she could find. She knew that in this family, coffee was the closest any of them could come to saying _I care about you_ without actually moving their lips, and she was willing to bet Artemis Crock spoke that language too.

“Hey,” Stephanie called once the coffee was in hand. She set the extra clothes down on the console in front of her, ignoring the way the older girl’s body tensed. It wasn’t like the plane needed either of them to fly back towards the manor. “So, I brought you coffee, but I don’t know how you take it.”

“Oh,” Artemis answered. Stephanie could see the way her mind came back into her body. “Black, thanks,” she said, taking the mug. Stephanie was about to warn her about it being hot, but the woman brought it up to her lips and sipped like she was used to the burn.

Stephanie was aware of two things almost simultaneously. First, Artemis was very intentionally not making eye contact, and second, she was shaking. Stephanie wished she could promise Artemis that everything was going to be okay, that Dick was resting comfortably or whatever, but the truth was that Stephanie really didn’t like to lie to people.

“So I know you’re a tiny bit taller than Cass,” she blurted, “and I’m a bit uh… curvier than you, but I found you some stuff that should probably fit and the hoodie– ”

“Stop,” Artemis said, cutting off wherever it was Steph was going. Which was probably for the best, because Steph really wasn’t so sure herself.

“You can’t show up to the hospital in _that_ ,” she said, waving her hands at the orange and black uniform.

“Kid, I don’t _do_ hospitals.”

“Yeah, I don’t think any of us really _like_ them, but Doctor Thompkins is putting a wing in to lockdown, it’ll be – ”

“Fine?” Artemis asked, her voice cutting dangerously through the air. It _was_ what Stephanie had been about to say and she knew there was probably a better word she could have used but…

“Look,” Artemis said, her voice back under control. “As soon as we land I am heading back to my apartment and I am going to be trying to wipe this whole thing from my memory.”

Stephanie knew that that would be a losing battle. She studied the older woman’s profile as carefully as she could. Artemis was one of both Barbara and Dick’s closet friends. And she was also Jason’s... _well_ Stephanie wasn’t completely sure _what_ the two of them were, but they were something.

“Here’s the thing,” Steph said quietly. “We’re probably still going to need you.” She had chosen practicality over comfort, figuring it was the least likely to get her in trouble.

“ _What?”_ Artemis asked, finally turning to look at her.

“Yeah, because we can load Dick into the SUV and Al can drive,” she started, imagining how it would all go down once they landed. “Tim and I are going to have to ride with him, because we have the best chance at keeping him stabilized until we get there.”

“And?”

“And it’s not big enough to get us all to the hospital, and neither Cass or Damian, despite what he will tell you, can drive a car,” Steph finished, pleased at the look of surprise that crossed Artemis’s face.

“Jay can drive,” Artemis said, her voice sounding tired.

“ _Yeah_ … I think we both know that would be a horrible plan at this point,” Steph interjected. “He’s kind of…”

“I know.”

“Listen, I’m not trying to pry into your life – ”

“And yet here we are,” Artemis interrupted, but Stephanie could already see her eyeing the pile of clothes in front of her. The older girl’s posture softened when her eyes landed on Jason’s hoodie.

“But I think of the conscious people on this plane right now, you’re the only one Jason is going to listen to.” Stephanie knew what it was like to argue with herself – and she watched those emotions play out on the face of the woman before her.

“This is a bad idea,” she whispered, and Stephanie wasn’t sure if Artemis even knew she said it out loud.

“It’s going to be okay,” Steph said, reaching a hand out towards her, but freezing as her gray eyes locked in.

“Don’t,” Artemis said, her voice cold. “Don’t ever make promises like that in this kind of work, Blondie. It’ll come back to bite you.”

“I just…” Steph stammered, involuntarily stepping away.

“I know,” she said, yanking the clothes from the console. “Try and get some sleep, kid. You did your job – I’ll go do mine.”

Stephanie watched her walk away with a sigh. There were too many cautionary tales in her life; too many people who had given everything, only to be asked to turn around and give just a little bit more. Without thinking, she reached up her hand to brush the tears from her eyes. In the deepest parts of her soul she wished for a happy ending to this story – she didn't think they could handle anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all as always for all of your continued support 💛💛 It means so much to us. We love all the comments - and are always happy to talk about anything you want. You can catch me (Kay) over on tumblr under gothamsgrace if you're shy to do it here. Take care of yourselves this week 💛💛


	10. Chapter Ten: Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone finally makes it home and you can learn a lot by watching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Oh hello_. We're getting to the end my friends, and I am excited for it - because it means it is near the time of difficult conversions. Please enjoy!

**Chapter Ten: Truths**

[  _ Artemis  _ | _ Cass _ |  _ Jason  _ ]

Artemis knew what it was like to be strong. She knew what it was like to hold her  _ shit _ together when there was no other choice. Despite years of therapy, she was still pretty good at boxing up her emotions and labeling them  _ Do Not Disturb _ . Tonight was another night that she wanted to lock away for eternity. And she couldn’t decide which part was worse, that she couldn’t get Dick Grayson’s blood off her hands, or the fact that Jason Todd had held a gun to her head.

She scrubbed at the blood with the wipes she’d found, fought her way out of her orange and black Tigress gear, and when she was satisfied she wouldn’t smear the borrowed clothes with blood, she yanked on the leggings and dragged the  _ very _ purple shirt over her head. It wasn’t her – but it would have to do. She held the sweatshirt tightly in her hands, not yet ready to put it on.

The heavy sound of boots behind her made Artemis’ chest ache. She didn’t really want to turn around because she knew what she would see – and knew what Jason would see in return.

“Hey.” 

She could feel him standing behind her, and knew he was keeping his distance. Slowly, she moved toward him, trying to hide the fact that she was still shaking.

“I can get out of your way,” she whispered, knowing that she was blocking the duffle bag that contained his civvies. 

“Look,” Jason said, his blue-green eyes locking with hers. “That never should have happened, and me saying I’m sorry isn’t enough…” Leave it to him to dive right into the heart of it.

“It’s fi – ”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, moving closer, both of his hands staying clenched at his sides, like he was trying to stop himself from reaching for her. “It’s not  _ fine _ . None of this is anywhere close to fine. Artemis – I held a  _ gun _ to your head – I could have killed you.”

“Yeah, Jay. I’m aware.” Her voice was raw. Artemis felt like she’d been screaming for hours, when all she’d really been doing was forcing herself not to cry.

“And I get it. I understand if you couldn’t…” His voice shook as he trailed off. “I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t trust me…”

“It’s not the gun I have a problem with, Jay,” Artemis said, cutting him off. Without meaning to, she reached for his hand, the blood there already dried and flaking off. “You ran off, without anything even remotely resembling a plan. Do you understand what you did to me tonight?”

“I stood you up and I’m really sor– ”

“Jason,” she barked, her other hand reaching up to grab his jaw. “You could have died. You ran off to do something  _ stupid _ and I – ” Artemis clenched her mouth shut as understanding filtered across his face. She closed her eyes as he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “We’re not done talking about this,” she whispered. “I am still mad at you, but we’re putting it on pause.”

“For how long?” Jason asked, pulling back to look at her.

“At least until we’ve gotten you cleaned up? I don’t really want to do this in front of the kids either.” She pulled away from him, leaning down to the bags on the floor. “Red one?”

He hummed in response, already starting to pull his arms out of his jacket. Out of courtesy, Artemis tried not to react to each of his muffled groans. Jason may not have taken the brunt of the damage tonight, but he was still in rough shape.

She turned, clean clothes in her hands, to see him topless in front of her, blood and bruises smearing through his patchwork of scars.

“Can I have the not-bloody shirt please?” he asked. Despite their familiarity, she knew how uncomfortable he could be, exposed with all his scars on display.

“Not yet.” She set the clothes aside and grabbed the last unopened med kit.

He nodded, clearly resigned to his fate as he stood before her, arms held loosely at his sides. “Be careful on the left,” he warned, but it was unnecessary. His entire left side was awash in fresh purple.

Artemis locked herself down further, her hands reaching for the cleaning wipes. As carefully as she could, she ran the cloth over his body.

“You need a shower,” she observed, having to rub a little harder to get the dried blood off.

“You offering to help me with it?” he asked cheekily.

“Please,” she laughed. “You couldn’t handle it right now.” She kept her voice light to avoid talking about the way his body flinched at her touch. They were coping the only way they knew how.

Finally satisfied he was as clean she could get him, Artemis reached for the gauze padding.

“They’re going to want a CT scan on you,” she said, placing the patch of gauze over a shallow cut. “How’s your breathing?”

“Hurts,” Jason grunted. “But I’m not worried about my lungs.”

“Do you worry about  _ anything? _ ” Artemis hated the way her hands trembled as she handed him his shirt. She didn’t miss the way his eyes slid past her to the cargo hold where Dick was laid out.

“I heard you’re coming to the hospital,” he said instead of answering.

“Yeah.”

It wasn’t the place she wanted to be heading, but Stephanie had been right. There was no way Jason should be behind the wheel of a car right now. She handed him a pair of clean pants, slipping under his arm to help him balance as he worked his way out of the mud-and-blood-covered pair.

“I knew you just wanted my pants off,” he winced.

Artemis just shook her head. He was trying to distract her – trying to distract himself – from what was waiting for them outside this moment. The second they were done, she knew she’d be moving back to the front of the plane – and he’d be moving to keep watch over Dick. She went to hand him the black hoodie Stephanie had given her when Jason stopped her, his calloused palm brushing over her bare arm.

“You keep it,” he said. “I’ve got my jacket if I need it – and you look ridiculous in that color.”

“It’s Stephanie’s,” Artemis offered, weakly trying to defend herself. She was grateful for the extra warmth of the zip-up as she slid it on. It fell down over her hips.

“I am aware.” He gave her a tired smile before moving to the pocket of his coat, pulling out two cigarettes.

“Where the hell did those come from?”

“I’m not throwing anyone under the bus,” Jason countered – which let Artemis know immediately they’d come from Cass. “Mind getting me the full pack from the bottom of that bag?” he asked, motioning to his duffle with a tilt of his head.

Artemis didn’t love the smoking, and Jason knew better than to do it on the plane, but she handed them to him anyway. She fished the lighter out as well, holding it in her palm.

“Look,” she started, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s going to be a long flight. Alfred packed some of the good pain killers in the med kit and they might help you sleep.”

“You going to stay with me?” he asked, and Artemis wasn’t sure if he meant right now – or  _ after tonight _ . She didn’t have an answer for him. They’d been doing…  _ whatever this was _ … for the last few months now, neither one of them wanting to give it any kind of label. But as Artemis carefully tired to look anywhere but his eyes, she could feel her heart hammering in her chest. She couldn’t do this again. She couldn’t lose someone she loved without ever getting the chance to say goodbye. Artemis’ head sprang back, her eyes seeking out his without permission.  _ Love? _ Did she love him?

“What?” he asked, his hand reaching her.

“It’s nothing,” she lied, grabbing a blanket off the shelf behind him. “Go. Get some rest. I’ll make sure we get back to Gotham.” She left before he could stop her, her arms wrapping tightly around herself, only to be surrounded by the scent of him from his hoodie. Artemis knew she had a lot of thinking to do – as if this night hadn’t been long enough already.

**\- - * - -**

Cass watched. She watched everyone around her flitter in and out of new, unfamiliar roles and uneasy sleep as the plane flew itself back toward Gotham City. Back to home.

She watched Dick, usually smiling even if it didn’t reach his eyes, shaking with pain. She knew there were nightmares playing out in his head as his eyelids never stilled. The eldest boy’s mask was completely gone and he lay before her so fragile and human.

She watched as Jason, shoulders slumped and wearing defeat like a second skin, moved to Damian, a blanket in hand. He cut his height in half, squatted to look Damian in the eyes as he whispered  _ ‘this is not your fault.’ _

Cass pretended to look away as her littlest brother angrily scrubbed tears from his face as the other ruffled the kid’s hair. She turned away, trying not to be intrusive, only pulled back by the sound of Damian’s boots as he stalked away to change his clothes, clutching the blanket tightly to his chest.

Jason caught her watching then and smiled tightly at her.

“Hey little shadow,” he whispered. “I need to close my eyes again, but if they need me, you’ll wake me up?” Cass nodded her consent, happy to be trusted with the task. She knew that Jason wore this role of leadership uneasily and mentally vowed to do whatever she could to lessen his burden.

By the time Damian came back, his civilian clothes perfectly pressed, Jason was already out cold, and the boy sat down beside him, arms wrapped around his knees. Like her, Damian was a watcher; he’d fight off sleep as long as he could to hold his silent vigil.

None of them talked much, except for Stephanie always checking in to see what more she could do, and occasionally Tim mumbling  _ almost _ coherently under his breath. When Tim finally did crash into sleep, it was restless. He would jump and startle awake every fifteen minutes like he was falling, a bird without his wings. Cass worried about what was behind his eyes too. What new nightmares would haunt him after tonight?

When Cass saw Stephanie move out of sight she considered going to her, but the sound of crying stopped her. If the blonde had wanted her, she would not have moved away, and Cass respected her too much to try and give comfort when it was not wanted. Stephanie was incredibly strong, even if the other girl didn’t always see it. Being here, with this family, Cass had learned that tears did not always mean weakness, that emotions should be felt – there were just too many tonight for any of them to deal with.

Their other companion on this trip was not immune from those emotions either. When even Damian had finally succumbed, probably due to the lingering sedatives still in his system – or just the pure exhaustion of it all – Cass lifted her head as Artemis Crock’s careful footsteps brought her into the back of the plane.

“How is he?” Artemis asked, her voice a ragged whisper. She had stopped in the doorway unwilling, or maybe unable, to move any closer.

“The same,” Cass answered with a shrug. The trembling sounds of air through Dick’s lungs and the way his body twitched may not have been comfortable to observe but they were a constant reminder that he was still alive.

For a long moment, Artemis stood watching but Cass knew she wouldn’t be able to stay long. Whatever had happened between her and Jason down on the beach had taken the last of the older girl’s energy. Her broken eyes showed that she had nothing left to give. With a glance in Jason’s direction and a nod to Cass, she walked back to the pilot’s seat. In the silence that followed, Cass heard her muffled tears as well.

For the remaining hours, Cass remained awake. When Damian’s blanket had slipped, she’d moved it back. When Tim had startled awake, bleary eyed and gasping, she’d handed him a water bottle and moved closer to him until he fell asleep again. And when she heard the whine of the engines begin to lessen and the plane begin to dip, Cass stood, stretching her limbs carefully until Artemis stood in the doorway once more.

“Alfred says he’d got two SUVs already running. He’s waiting at the landing pad with a gurney to help us get Dick out.”

Cass nodded, already deciding that she would help to move him. She calculated that between herself, Stephanie, Tim, and Artemis, they could make it work. Without the adrenaline flooding his veins, Cass doubted Jason’s body would let him do much, even if he would still insist on trying.

Wordlessly the two of them divided wake-up calls. With a gentle hand she shook Tim and Stephanie at the same time. Both of them were quick to start, untangling their limbs from the pile the pair of them had ended up in. She shifted towards Damian next, her hand on his ankle so she could wake him up out of striking range. Just in case. 

Artemis moved closer to where Dick lay, his body still for once, but the blonde made every effort not to look. Instead she bent down with her back to him, running her hand over Jason’s arm.

Cass found herself fascinated with the ghost of a smile that slipped onto and then faded from Jason’s face. This was why she hated words. She hadn’t learned yet how to describe the way the light danced across his eyes despite the pain he must have been in or the dread that settled somewhere along his jaw. She doubted words like that actually existed.

“All right boys and girls,” Jason called as he pulled himself to his feet, trying on a more manic grin to hide his pain. “Whatever the story is, you stick to it, and stick to it hard. Al will probably have phones for us or something, so if you need help with a cover, get it. Try the buddy system as much as you can until B gets here. Do not let the normal people get you alone.”

The plane beeped out it’s final landing warning, drawing Artemis back to the cockpit, and the rest of them reaching for things to hold on to. Tim crouched down next to Dick’s body, his hand hovering, looking for somewhere to help anchor him in place. There wasn’t much undamaged space available.

As soon as the wheels hit the ground, the back hatch of the plane opened up. Alfred was already walking towards them, white knuckling the stretcher as he pushed it onto the plane. His face pinched tightly when he looked down at Dick.

“Right,” the Englishman said, schooling his features. “We’ll hurry then.” Without flinching, he lowered himself to the ground ready to help lift Dick.

“We got this, Al,” Jason said, only to have Artemis push him gently back against the wall.

“ _ We _ do,” she amended, making eye contact with Cass who nodded in return. She bent, her hands shifting under his waist as Artemis slipped beneath his shoulder.

“Leg,” she warned, nodding for Tim to come forward and support Dick’s damaged appendage. None of them looked at each other when a broken scream fell from Dick’s mouth, his body starting to writhe once again.

“Master Timothy, Miss Stephanie, you’ll ride with me. There are fresh supplies in the back – ”

“I’m coming too,” Damian interrupted. Cass wasn’t surprised in the least, and apparently neither was Alfred.

“Of course, Master Damian. And it is good to see you well.” They made it the rest of the way to the waiting vehicles at a jog, Jason very clearly bringing up the rear. Cass wished there was more she could do for him.

“What’s the cover?” Tim asked as he helped to shift Dick into the back of the car.

“Camping accident,” Alfred answered dryly, his tone indicating he was less than impressed with the story. “Master Richard fell while hiking and it appears Master Jason must have followed him down – although not nearly as far.”

“Right,” Artemis agreed, moving to intercept Jason before he could reach the driver’s side door of the second vehicle. “Not a chance. We’ll meet you there.” 

They broke apart, the first SUV driving off with Alfred behind the wheel the moment all the doors had been closed.

Cass slid herself into the back seat of the second one, finding the black bag waiting for them. She began pawing through it as Artemis agreed that Jason didn’t need the seat belt – but only because she was worried about the damage it might do to his already injured ribs.

“What’da we got, Cass?” Jason asked her, once Artemis had pulled them onto the main road. 

Cass dutifully handed up one of the two burner cell phones and a package of goldfish crackers. Jason’s snort of laughter told her he found the snack as endearing as she had; Alfred only handed out prepackaged food when he was particularly anxious. And even if he wouldn’t admit it, Cass knew goldfish crackers were one of Jason’s favorites.

They rode in a silence that suited Cass just fine. It allowed her to keep watching, and she didn’t miss the way Jason’s hand strayed over to Artemis as she drove, quietly weaving them in and out of the ever-present traffic of Gotham.

By the time they pulled into the back lot of Gotham General Hospital, a small group of people dressed in scrubs were wheeling Dick away, Alfred ushered the three younger Bats inside, and Dr. Leslie Thompkins waited for them, her hands pressed firmly on her hips.

Artemis killed the engine, but didn’t undo her seatbelt.

“I can’t go in,” she whispered, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Jay, I can’t…”

“It’s okay,” he murmured back, tentatively reaching out a hand to brush back the longer strands of blonde hair that danced against her face. Cass felt like she was spying – more than she usually did. She moved to exit the car, when Artemis’s voice stopped her.

“Cass, can you do something for me?”

Cass nodded; they owed their friend a lot after tonight and she would do what she could to help balance those scales. The blonde smiled weakly in response.

“I know Jason thinks he’s a tough guy.”

“ _ Artemis, _ ” Jason sighed trying to interrupt her, but she plowed on through him.

“But make sure Doc Thompkins knows about his side. Don’t let him just try and walk this one off. Make sure he listens.”

“I will,” Cass promised, even as Jason sighed loudly again. Cass smiled her goodbye, throwing herself out of the car as Artemis turned her eyes back on Jason. She’d let them have this – she didn’t need to watch everything.

“Cassandra,” Doctor Thompkins greeted her with tired eyes. “And how are you?”

“Anxious,” Cass answered truthfully.

“You’re not the only one, my dear.”

“Hey, Doc,” Jason called. Cass could see the way he tried to carry himself as he moved to stand beside her. The lie didn’t fool her however, and if the heavy sigh and haggard look were any indication, it hadn’t fooled Doctor Thompkins either.

“Damage report?” she asked, eyes already darting across his body.

“Shouldn’t you be inside already?”

“I’m not performing surgery, Jason. You’ll get me all to yourself for a little while.” The word  _ surgery _ hung in the air like a curse. Cass had known that this would not be a patch-up job, but the fact that it was beyond what Doctor Thompkins felt comfortable with only fanned the flame of worry inside her.

“Who – ” Jason started to ask, but the good doctor sighed again and moved behind him to usher him in the door.

“Questions later,” she said. “Now I’m getting you into an exam room before you can change your mind. You’re as bad as your father when it comes to…” The woman trailed off, her eyes going wide as she realized what she had said. Cass had heard it too, but in his haze of pain and exhaustion, Jason seemed to have missed it.

“What about Damian,” he asked, oblivious. “He’s going to – ”

“He is already being attended to.”

“But…”

“Cassandra?”

Cass hummed at the sound of her name, turning so that she could look at Doctor Thompkins even as she led them through the hospital to a private area.

“What do you know about Jason’s injuries?”

Cass smiled apologetically at her brother before turning back to the doctor. “Left side. He winces when he tries to breathe hard.”

“ _ Traitor, _ ” Jason muttered, but it lacked any kind of venom. Cass knew not to take it personally.

“Here we are,” Doctor Thompkins said, opening a plain door with the words  _ Waiting Room _ etched into the frosted glass. “Jason, let Barbara see you’re still walking, and then you’re with me.”

“Yes ma’am,” he sighed, resigned to his fate.

Cass moved in behind him, seeing the others already in the room, cluster around Barbara. Although she had covered it well, Cass knew that the redhead had been crying.

Jason walked over to her like a man walking to his execution. “Hey, Barbie,” he said, standing in front of her with his hands shoved into his pockets.

“So glad you’re back from your camping trip,” Barbara said, her voice blunt. It was only in her eyes that Cass could see how scared she really was.

“That’s a horrible cover,” Jason whispered, biting back a groan as he stooped down to hug her.

“Yeah well,” Barbara said flippantly. “Unfathomable stupidity does roll off the tongue easier, but…” And just for a second, Cass could see Barbara’s mask wavering. In the fluorescent lighting of this well-furnished hospital waiting room, Cass could see the jagged pieces of the girl that Barbara Gordon had once been. Her anger, her anxiety, and her overwhelming desire to take on the pain of others, was laid bare.

“Jason, with me please.” Doctor Thompkins’s voice broke the moment. Like a curtain being dropped, Barbara was back to her put-together self, emotions packed away tightly for later. Jason pulled away with a nod, and Cass knew that there was a long conversation ahead for the two of them.

With the older boy gone, Barbara turned a small smile onto Cass, beckoning her over with a wave.

“Nice work,” she said, opening up her arms to hold Cass tightly. “You got them all out. Thank you.” She stayed in the hug for as long as Barbara needed it, breathing in the familiar scent of cinnamon shampoo and coffee.

They only broke apart when a nurse entered the room; Damian trailing her with an IV hooked into his arm.

“He says he’d rather wait out here?” The nurse looked nervous as she spoke and Cass worried what Damian had done to the poor woman. “I didn’t think Dr. Thompkins would mind too much if…”

“Of course,” Barbara said, much to the nurse’s relief. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Damian marched towards them as the nurse turned to go. He looked exhausted in a way Cass had never seen him before, but he carried on as though it were common, his limbs easing back into a familiar dance.

“Gordon.” Damian's gaze was just over Barbara’s shoulder. “This is my fault and I will, of course, accept whatever punishment you and father deem fit. I…” the dam behind his eyes finally broke. Cass reached her hand out to her youngest brother, happy that he didn’t pull away from the contact. No matter how hard he tried to act, he was still just a little boy playing adult games. In some ways, they all were.

“It’s okay, we’ll talk later,” Barbara soothed, smiling tightly as Cass held him in a hug. “Right now I’m happy you’re safe.”

“But Richard…”

“He’s pretty tough. He’ll be okay once the doctors are done with him.” While Damian seemed reassured, Cass could feel the anxiety like a thunderstorm in Barbara’s words. She was afraid. “Get some rest,” she nodded towards the couches in the room. “Your dad’s on his way.”

Cass let him go with a gentle nudge as they all spread themselves throughout the room to play the horrible game of waiting, an uneasy cloud of tension enveloping them. Not particularly likening any of the seats, Cass perched herself in the windowsill, allowing her to keep all present members of her family within her sight.

They stayed like that, minutes stretching close to an hour before a quick knock at the waiting room door had Stephanie and Tim jumping in their seats; Cass had known it was coming, a shadow passing across the frosted glass only a second before.

Bruce pushed into the room, the tension coiled thickly on his face and for maybe the first time in his life, he actually looked his age. He was in an expensively tailored suit, but it was rumpled and he was missing his tie, like he had changed in a stairwell. Knowing him, it was a distinct possibility. 

He made eye contact with each of them in turn, and Cass knew he was noting the absences. Without a word he moved to Damian, lifted the boy off the couch and held him tightly. Cass couldn’t quite make out what he whispered into his youngest child’s ear, but the boy wrapped his arms around his father’s neck and nodded.

“Any update on the others?” Bruce asked, his eyes landing on Barbara as he sat himself down, still refusing to let go of Damian.

“Leslie took Jason back a little while ago. She hasn’t released him yet. And Dick…” Barbara trailed off, hands fidgeting anxiously in her lap, eyes shifting to the ceiling looking for answers it didn’t contain. She swallowed roughly, shaking her head.

“They…” Tim rasped, his timid voice cutting into the silence with the precision of a scalpel. He too had to stop, his eyes wavering as he chose the floor for his codex. “They took him to the OR as soon as we got here.” Cass could see how much he blamed himself in the curl of his shoulder, Stephanie’s comforting touch making him flinch.

“Thank you,” Bruce answered, fingers absentmindedly smoothing down the collar of Damian’s sweater. He didn’t say anything else, and Cass felt it was the right thing. With all the millions of words that existed, the emotion in his eyes still did more to tell her how he was feeling. Apprehensive, scared, grateful, all of them were there, but none of them were enough. She wondered which words her own face was screaming, too tired now to hide them all behind a wall.

They all settled back into their waiting pattern, until another knock on the frosted glass had all of them sitting up a little straighter. Bruce stood this time, untangling himself from Damian, before he answered the door.

He tried to block out the newcomers with his body, but Cass could still see them, a beautiful woman with flowing dark hair, and a large man with kind eyes. The remaining two-thirds of the Trinity, or as they had both insisted upon: Uncle Clark and Aunt Diana. What happened next was what Cass could only describe as the most intense nonverbal conversation she had ever witnessed, and she had seen Dick and Barbara exchange daggers without ever opening their mouths.

Clark looked pointedly at Bruce with his eyebrows raised, his glasses slipping down. To which Bruce gave a curt shake of his head, a single strike meant to end the conversation, but Uncle Clark was never very good at reading Bruce’s moods. Or he just deemed them insufficient. He tried again, leaning forward slightly this time as if that could add weight to the intensity of his stare. Bruce only stood taller, his chin held higher. His intentions were clear to all of the children absorbed in this silent battle of wills, even if Uncle Clark wouldn’t see it.

Cass truly believed that if Bruce could shoot lasers from his eyes the way Superman could, Uncle Clark would have been reduced to a pile of smoldering ashes. She briefly wondered if she should offer to translate, because he  _ clearly _ wasn’t processing the dismissal Bruce was giving. Instead, the man took it a step further.

“Bruce,” he whispered, as if everyone in the room wasn’t specially trained to hear a pin drop. “We need to talk about this.” He might as well have been shouting. “We need to figure out how this could have happened – how  _ whoever _ they are targeted your family and – ”

“We’re handling it, Clark,” Bruce growled, using his Batman voice.

“Bruce, please. You don’t have to do this alone, let us help you!”

“ _ Not right now. _ ” Bruce’s back was ridged, all the muscles in his body tense.

“But – ”

“ _ No _ .”

“Fine,” Clark sighed, finally resigned to what he should have known all along. When Bruce was determined, no one could change his mind. “You can’t let this drag on forever though. When will we get to talk about this?”

“When one of my children isn’t in an intensive care unit.” The pain that seared through Bruce’s voice was enough to make Uncle Clark’s mouth snap shut with a pop. He struggled then, his jaw working back open, but sound came out.

Aunt Diana leaned forward, her hand brushing against Bruce’s arm; the soft touch stripping him of his energy, his shoulders deflating.

“When you’re ready, Bruce. Clark’s just worried. As are we all.” They both accepted his nod as acquiescence, Clark pulling him in for a fast hug, startling him, before letting go.

“If you need us, call.” They turned to leave and Bruce shut the door behind him. He wouldn’t meet any of his children’s eyes as he moved wearily back to his spot on the couch, scooping Damian back against him. The boy squirmed slightly, but allowed himself to be used for comfort.

Cass did the only thing she could; she offered Bruce a small smile when he did finally turn to look at her and wordlessly vowed to keep her vigil, perched on the windowsill for as long as she was needed.

**\- - * - -**

Dr. Thompkins held him hostage for an hour and a half. She talked to him the whole time she was cleaning and dressing his wounds. Just like she always had, the good doctor explained each and every procedure, showing him everything before she began treatment, easing him into it. Jason had always appreciated her collected manner; he had never liked hospitals, but he had always liked her.

She had tried to get him to stay, to rest in the large private room she’d brought him into, but after everything they had been through, Jason’s mind would not be stilled. He had accepted her lecture as he’d pulled his shirt and coat back on over his now cleaned and bandaged skin. He’d promised he would  _ take it easy _ , and respected her look of skepticism; none of them had the best track record with that.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, smiling at her as he eased his way out the door. Besides, she had more important things to do than keep working on him. The acidic taste of bile filled Jason’s mouth when he allowed his mind to stray to Dick: bruised, bleeding, and broken.

He scanned the hallway carefully. In the distance he heard the medical staff as they talked in vague whispers. Further down he could see the door to the waiting room. There wasn’t a single part of Jason that is ready for  _ that _ . It wasn’t that he  _ didn’t _ want to see Barbara, or that he didn’t want to check and make sure all the kids were still okay. It wasn’t even that he  _ knew _ Bruce would have been there by now. He just… couldn’t. After everything that had happened, Jason needed an out – even if it were only for a few minutes.

His hands slipped into his pockets, fingers moving against the two loose cigarettes and the full pack on the other side. Without another thought, Jason made his way towards the glowing red exit sign; he knew the stairs would be hell, but it was a price he was willing to pay.

Outside, Jason moved with a purpose, feet carrying him further and further away from the hospital. A part of him wanted to just keep walking until he couldn’t anymore. He was pretty sure that if he just  _ left _ , he could call Artemis and she’d be willing to come pick him up, but then they’d probably have to talk again, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to see the hurt in her eyes right now.

He stopped once he got to the building across the street, just off the hospital campus, so there was not even a shred of guilt when he lit up his first cigarette in the darkness of a new night. As slowly as he could, Jason filled his lungs until they burned, his ribs screaming at him. In his mind he could hear Dick scolding him, but then that hurt too.

“ _ Fuck,”  _ he whispered, letting the smoke curl into the quiet around him. He palmed the burner phone in his pocket, trying to convince himself someone would have called if things had gotten bad –  _ worse – if… _ Jason finished his cigarette and immediately lit up the next.

He leaned his head against the brick wall of the building behind him. He knew what he really needed was to sleep, but the images in his head, snippets of Dick’s nightmare, mixed with his own created a fantastic new hellscape, complete with the soft tendrils of Death whispering in his ear, reminding him of what he had almost done. But the more smoke he inhaled – the quieter it got.

He was just lighting up for the third time, when he heard the sound of wheels over gravel.

“Dr. Thompkins said she’d released you,” Barbara greeted, pulling her chair around so she could be beside him. “She also said she told you to sleep, but that you’d refused painkillers.”

Jason shrugged, regretting it instantly as pain spiked through him. From the corner of his eye, he could see the look that Barbara was giving him and mentally prepared himself for the lecture he knew was coming. It would be something about being careless, or about killing himself with the cigarettes after having only just survived the last fifteen hours.

“Hey Barbie, the old man send you out to find me?” he smiled half-heartedly. He’d take his licks. He might not be super keen on letting Bruce lay into him right now, but after everything that had happened, Barbara, at the very least, deserved to yell at him.

“Not specifically,” she answered, her eyes narrowed. “He said that you’re an adult and allowed to make your own choices about where you spend your time.”

“But?”

“But he’s worried about you.”

Jason didn’t have an answer for that. Ever since he’d gotten back, things with Bruce had been… awkward wasn’t the right word, but it was the best he had. The two of them really hadn’t spent a lot of time together without someone else present. Jason knew there was something like a fight coming, but he had never found himself with enough energy for the confrontation. 

“Thank you,” Barbara whispered, breaking him out of his thoughts, leaving Jason so surprised he nearly let the cigarette fall from his lips. “I know that couldn’t have been easy for you, but you helped get them all home.”

“When do you start ripping me a new asshole?” he asked before his brain could catch up with his mouth.

“Later,” she said with a sigh. “I’m tired.” But it was more than that, Jason knew. He could see the fear in her eyes, the way she clenched her jaw and her hands sat tightly in her lap.

“Well, when you’re ready,” he offered, earning him a smile that didn’t meet her eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ll live.” It was true, but it still felt hollow. Jason’s whole body ached and he could tell she was watching him for signs of his injuries. He didn’t know how to tell her that despite the cracks in his ribs and the bruises covering his body, the worst of it was on the inside. How could he – without spilling secrets that weren’t his to begin with?

“How…” she started, “how bad was it?”

Jason sighed. “I mean we all have nightmares, right? We’re a pretty fucked up group.” He pointed to himself, “I grew up a Narrows street rat with an abusive father and addicted mother. Then I died. Steph too, minus the death, but she’s got time. Tim’s family ignored him to the point where he wasn’t even sure he was real. Your family is a mess  _ and _ you got shot. Cass and the kid were both taught to be weapons before they were people. And Dick, at nine years old watched his parents fall to their deaths, and he still throws himself off of every building he can find.”

Barbara just shrugged, but Jason knew her better than that – knew that she knew what he did. They were all a mess; you had to be to run around with a target on your chest like they did.

“Anyway, they wired Dickie up to a big screen somehow. And now I know what it looks like on the inside of his head.” Jason didn’t mention the clown. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Barbara she’d been used to add to Dick’s pain - or that the Joker had been within Jason’s range, and he had failed to kill him.

“He’s always been good at hiding things,” Barbara offered, and Jason didn’t have to ask which he she was referring to. 

Jason turned to study her, catching the soft unfocused nature of her eyes. He’d be willing to bet Babs’ dreams were a mess too.

“I guess,” he agreed. “I mean, when we were in Europe, we occasionally kept each other up at night. I  _ knew _ they were bad, but he still wears that fucking cocky smile all the damn time and I…guess…”

“You have enough demons of your own, Jay,” she said, her voice comforting. “And he’s your older brother. You didn’t need his nightmares too.”

He steadied his gaze on the hospital sign, not sure where to go from here. He wanted to sleep, he wanted to run, his heart felt like it was ready to explode from everything he’d seen and done.

“You look exhausted,” she promoted. “When was the last time you slept?”

Jason cocked a brow at her, finishing off his cigarette with a smirk, a part of him just happy to be talking again. “I may have been unconscious for a bit on the plane. But with enough nicotine and a pot of bad hospital coffee, I might be able to stay up all week.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

He wasn’t sure if she meant the cigarettes or the calculated insomnia.

“And what about you, Barbie?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “You slept since Damian’s name came up on your scanners?”

Her short “ _ I’ll manage,” _ didn’t surprise him. Jason expected nothing less from Barbara Gordon. She was a rock, or… at least she had always done a damn fine job acting like one. He pulled his next cigarette from the pack and held it out to her.

“You want?” His teasing turned to shock as she took it from him, her hand extended expectantly for his lighter. A thought struck him, and on impulse, Jason switched the one she’d taken for one of the loose ones still in his pocket. She gave him a look but said nothing as she took the offered lighter. Without a second of hesitation, Barbara flicked on the small flame, lit the cigarette held in her mouth and took a long, slow drag.

“ _ Barbie? _ ” Jason asked his eyes wide as he tried to remember if Barbara herself had ever called him out for smoking. She’d glared at him plenty, but had never  _ said _ an actual word.

“Don’t tell anyone, okay?” she begged, the smoke curling around her in tiny almost fairy-like wisps. “Especially not Dick.”

“Uh-huh.” Jason took back his lighter with a smirk. “So  _ you’re  _ who Cass stole those from. Since when do you smoke?”

A bitter laugh escaped her as she turned to look at him. “You know some of us still manage to keep a secret or two – although apparently not from Cassandra.” She paused to breathe in and out again. “My dad used to smoke when I was a kid. I knew they calmed  _ him _ down, so I stole a few here and there – just to see if it would work. It never did enough for me. And then one time, Dick caught the smell on me and he lost it.”

“And then?”

“And then I stopped,” she shrugged. “I knew all the crap it could do to me, so I just channeled that energy someplace else.”

Jason only half believed it. “Babs, you just didn’t just take that like you haven’t had one since you were a kid. I mean I’m the last one to judge, I’m just saying – and Cass  _ did _ nick it off of you  _ recently _ .” He reached into his pocket to offer her the second one but she shook her head.

“After everything that happened,” she whispered, her eyes trained on the glowing end of her cigarette. “When I couldn’t find Dick, and then after…” she trailed off motioning to her chair with a sigh. “I just spiraled for a little bit, okay?”

Jason nodded, his hand coming up to her shoulder, squeezing for just a second before dropping it.

“What helped?” he asked, suddenly wondering why the two of them had never had this conversation before.

“A lot of things,” she offered. “People who stuck around. Dinah, Artemis.”

The smile came to his face unbidden, but Barbara caught it before Jason could cover it with another drag of his cigarette.

“I saw that,” she teased. “How are things going between you two?”

“They’re going,” Jason answered. “But I’m pretty sure I’m not her favorite person right this minute.”

“She’s scared, Jay. You guys just – ”

“I know.”

“And she’s still hurting from – ”

“I know.”

“But I’m pretty sure she’s in love with you.”

“I kn-  _ what? _ ” Jason sputtered, completely dropping the cigarette in his hand as he spun to look down at Barbara. “She’s  _ what? _ ”

“It’s kind of obvious,” Barbara said with an unaffected shrug. “You guys have been spending nights at each other’s apartments. You’re the first guy since, you know… that she’s seen more than  _ twice _ let alone however many months the two of you have been dancing around each other.”

“Yeah, well.” Jason was very suddenly interested in the cuff of his jacket; he refused to meet Barbara’s eyes, but he could feel her watching him. “ _ What?” _

“ _ Nothing _ ,” she hummed. Her mood changed drastically as she looked back towards the hospital building, finishing her cigarette with a heavy sigh.

“Speaking of love,” Jason said. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s out of surgery,” Barbara replied, her voice soft. “And I just…” Jason didn’t say anything as she scrubbed the backs of her hands over her eyes. “I’m  _ scared _ and I’m still mad at him, and if he had just talked to me…”

“I know,” Jason whispered. “He and I… well… we weren’t thinking and…”

“When I saw him through Steph’s feed…” Barbara continued as if Jason hadn’t said anything. She was lost in her own head, he knew. No doubt sifting through the same memories Jason had. If he let his mind wander for too long, it always came back to the images of Dick’s chest barely rising, the sound of him struggling for air, the terror in his blue eyes whenever they’d been open. “I just…  _ I don’t want to lose him _ .”

Jason smiled softly, carefully moving his body down so that he could kneel closer to her. “You two are idiots,” he said as gently as he could. “The pair of you have been in love since you were, what? Like twelve or something?”

“Jay there’s a lot – ”

“I know. I was there for some of it, remember?”

“Yeah,” she said, eyes pinned on the same hospital Jason had been enamored with only minutes before. “He just… he always used to promise me, that he would  _ always _ be there. And I know when we were kids running around playing hero… he always had my back but…  _ I needed him. _ Not to protect me, but just to  _ be  _ there and he wasn’t. I’m not saying that I’m  _ not _ going to be here for him, I just…” she trailed off, ignoring the tears that were tracking silently down her cheeks, but Jason saw them.

“Look,” he sighed, reaching out to take her hand. “I know he fucked up, hell,  _ he  _ knows he fucked up. When he came back – ” Barbara pulled her hand away sharply.

“He tell you what happened?” she demanded, her face turning red. “How I cheated on this amazing guy because I  _ just _ … because Dick showed up and I…”

“No,” Jason interrupted. “I mean yes, I know about Wes – but that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean when he came back  _ before _ .”

“Before?” she asked, the disbelief clear in her voice. “Before  _ when? _ ”

“He used to read the Gotham news online all the time, and when he saw you’d been shot…” Jason breathed in as deeply as his damaged body would allow. “All he could do was figure out how to get back to you. He spent everything he had getting a fake passport and a ticket.”

“He  _ what? _ ”

“You don’t know, do you?” A part of Jason wanted to laugh – he had finally found something the omniscient Oracle didn’t know. “He called me after, said he needed money to get back to Vlatava with me. Something about your dad reading him the riot act about how you deserved better.”

Barbara wouldn’t look at him, but Jason could see it in her eyes as she began putting all the pieces together. “The  _ daisies _ …” she whispered. “Dad had said that a visitor had come before – and I thought it had been…”

“You thought Bruce would have brought daisies? A little plebian for him, don’t you think?”

“ _ He came back?” _

Jason just nodded, moving to stand back up and press his aching back into the wall. “Look, he’s an idiot, and I know we can’t all keep blaming Bruce for our inability to appropriately discuss emotions  _ but… _ ” Jason bit the inside of his cheeks hard. He had promised himself he wasn’t going to do this but… “He’s sorry...tried to get me to promise I’d tell you that.”

He watched as a tiny smile danced its way onto her lips, her eyes still full of tears she staunchly refused to cry.

“I think… I think I need to go back inside,” she whispered. Jason smiled, his hands reaching for another cigarette as she started back towards the hospital.

“Call me,” he said, raising his voice a little. “You know, if anything…”

“I will. And Jay?” she paused, turning back to look at him. He raised an eyebrow, lighter poised. “Rest please? You’re important too. And call Artemis, will you?”

Jason nodded, saluting her with his still unlit cigarette, and watched until she slipped back inside. He ran his free hand over the burner phone again wondering if he was ready for the call he was pretty sure he had to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Cass had a lot to "say" this chapter - and I always really love when I get to write her. And look! Some hugs happened! Thank you all so much for all your continued support - we cannot stress how much all your comments and kudos have meant 💛 Take care of yourselves please - as you are important.


	11. Chapter Eleven: Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Dick's fight silently continue, others struggle to find the right words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... who's ready to deal with some emotions? Because we're going to have to deal with things now. We are _so close_ to the end now. And I'm sorry in advance 💛💛

**Chapter Eleven: Home**

[ _Barbara_ | _Damian | Artemis_ | _Dick_ | _Barbara_ ] 

Her mind raced as Barbara made her way back inside. He’d come home. He’d come home. _He’d come home_ . The three words pounded through her like a heartbeat, everything slightly disoriented as she moved through the halls until she reached the private wing again. It certainly didn’t change everything – but it absolutely changed _something_.

She needed to be able to talk to him, and for that, she needed him to be okay. Barbara paused in front of the frosted glass window of the waiting room. She could go back in, she should, but her mind buzzed and her fingers tingled.

The sharp buzzing from her watch startled her from her thoughts, pulling her eyes down to check the text messages she’d missed:

> **Unknown number:** 💗 breathing better. dr. tired. not terrified. j? 

> **Boss:** Leslie came out again. He's still unconscious. Still critical, but the bleeding has stopped.
> 
> Still waiting on toxicology. Are you okay? Have you found Jason?

> **Unknown number:** okay so B is gonna give you the gloom n doom - but good news? 
> 
> doc smiled this time??? Where are you? T and i are getting coffee (shocking) do you 
> 
> need anything? Tell J to rest!💜💜

> **Unknown number:** Hey Babs, Dr. T checked in – repeated that surgery went as well 
> 
> as to be expected and that she’s run her tests for now. Waiting on blood work. His 
> 
> heart rate keeps spiking, but his breathing seems to have calmed down. Just o2, no 
> 
> ventilator. You find J?

She wondered briefly if it had occurred to any of them that they’d all be sending her essentially the same message. And if the kids had even remembered they were all on burner phones - and probably should have identified themselves. Not that they really needed to; Cass, Steph, and Tim were pretty distinctive in their texting styles. She pulled to the side to shoot off replies, her eyes following down the hallway even as she typed. Before she could think better of it, Barbara bypassed the waiting room and made for the patients’ hall, knowing that only one room would be occupied.

His door was open but a curtain blocked him from view. The whir and beep of machines bled out into the hall, unnerving her. Barbara could feel her hands clenched around the wheels of her chair. _He’d come home_ , her mind repeated. That noise she heard wasn’t a threat; it was a promise. He was still alive, still fighting, still here.

Barbara slowed her own breathing, trying to prepare for what came next. She pushed herself forward almost reaching the room’s threshold when a voice called out to her.

“Oh no, miss! You can’t be back here!” Barbara turned her head to see a petite woman in teal scrubs, curls bouncing as she rushed towards her. “I’m sorry, this wing is private. You need to leave.”

“I…” What had she been _thinking_? Of course she couldn’t just come back here and – _and_ _what?_ Barbara had to admit she didn’t have an answer. Not one that made sense; not to her and definitely not one that she could admit to the very determined looking woman who stared her down.

“It’s okay, Deb,” a deep voice called from behind her. “She’s cleared.”

Any semblance of control Barbara had thought she had had went out the window as she turned. Dr. Wes Malloren, _her former fiancé_ , loped towards them, file in hand and a tired look in his warm brown eyes.

The woman beside her relaxed her stance, a gentle smile warming her face. She nodded at Wes before turning back to Barbara.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” she apologized. “My husband works for Mr. Wayne, you know how secretive they all can get.”

“No, no it’s fine,” Barbara said in a rush, trying hard not to look at Wes. “I shouldn’t have just…”

“Barbara, this is Deb. She’s going to be the night nurse on duty. At least for the next few days.”

“I’ll be here as long as he needs me,” Deb assured her. “We’ll take care of him.” Barbara had no doubt she would. The woman excused herself with another smile, and a warm hand squeezed into Barbara’s shoulder.

“Barbara,” Wes said, shoving his empty hand into the pocket of his scrubs once they were alone.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice small. She hadn’t seen him since they – _he_ – had broken things off. She’d been almost positive he’d taken a transfer to Metropolis Mercy. “You uh… you look good.”

“I’m seeing someone.” He grimaced as soon as he’d said it, his eyes rolling. “I’m sorry, I have no idea why I said that.”

“It’s fine,” she laughed nervously. “I’m happy for you, really.”

“Leslie didn’t tell you I’d be here, did she?” he asked, his rueful smile putting her at ease.

“She had more important things on her mind.” They both turned to the open room.

“She called me,” Wes whispered. “Probably right after she got off with you. Said she needed help.”

“ _Thank you_.” Barbara could feel her throat starting to tighten and the tears prickling against her eyes.

“Of course,” he said with a shrug. “He wouldn’t let me help him _last time_ , and I owed him.” Barbara looked up at him, her heart hurting. In a different world, the two of them would have been planning their wedding right now. She cared for him – had been pretty sure she had loved him, or at least sure enough she _would have._

“I’m happy, you know. For the two of you.” He smiled, making the knots in Barbara’s stomach twist harder.

“Oh, we’re _not_ …”

“Barbara, seriously?” he asked, his eyes wide in disbelief. “Why the hell not?”

“I… we… it’s complicated,” Barbara finally settled on, hearing exactly how stupid it sounded out loud.

“Of course it is,” Wes responded with a laugh. “I don’t know how it couldn’t be. It’s _important_ .” The word repeated itself in Barbara’s mind over and over again, clashing with the heartbeat of _he came back_ , images flickering through her mind like an old fashioned slideshow.

“Can I ask you something completely not important?” she looked up at him, trying not to wring her hands.

“Shoot.”

“What’s my favorite flower?”

She watched as his brows knit together and he brought his free hand up to scratch at his jaw. “Is this a trap?”

“No, no trap,” Barbara laughed nervously, she just needed to know.

“Huh,” Wes thought aloud. “You know… I don’t think it ever came up?” Barbara considered it as well, her mind trying to see just how many conversations the two of them _hadn’t_ had.

“I guess…” she stared, “I guess it wouldn’t have, no.” They had dated for less than a year before Wes had proposed – she had just been so happy to have someone care about her, even though she had never been willing to share all the pieces of her. It had just felt so nice to be wanted.

Wes cocked his head to the side, a sad little smile curling his lips. “Where’s this coming from?”

“He came home,” Barbara offered, her shoulders scrunching up by her chin. It was too much, too much to say it aloud, her voice trailing to a whisper: “After I was shot, he…” she shook her head, trying to dislodge the pressure building there.

“Daisies, then?” Wes said, his eyes thoughtful, as if trying to see it in his mind. “You know…I think I almost remember those being in your room. They stuck out a little. They were… I don’t know, almost quiet? Compared with all the others.”

“Yeah,” Barbara nodded. “I had thought they were from someone else but… that wouldn’t have even made sense.”

“So what happened?”

“I don’t…” Barbara paused, filling her lungs with air. She was still trying to put together a puzzle without having seen the full picture. “I don’t know exactly. But I know my dad said something, thinking… I don’t know…”

Wes nodded, moving so that they were closer to the open door. “So it sounds like you two might have some things to talk about?”

“I think so,” Barbara whispered. The hope in her chest was a bird, trying desperately to break free; she didn’t want to hold it too tight for fear of crushing it.

“You will,” Wes said, a comforting hand dropping to her shoulder. “From what I can tell, he’s a fighter. And I think at least a part of him knows he’s got something pretty special waiting for him on the other side.”

Barbara followed Wes’s easy pace into the room. She held back as he slid the curtain to the side and began running a check of Dick’s vitals. Everything inside of her stilled as she watched, listening to the thrum of the machines.

“He’s doing better,” Wes told her, his voice low and steady. “Heart rate seems under control for now. ”

Barbara didn’t miss the way he said _for now_ and appreciated his honesty. She could feel her own heart starting to pound as she took in everything before her. Dick’s leg was secured by a brace, a sheet spread over his lower torso and undamaged leg. What she could see of his chest alternated between bruises and bandages. Two of his three little bird tattoos were covered, the red one only just peeking out from beneath the wrappings. They’d cleaned him up; the blood she’d seen before relegated to her memories.

She tried to listen as Wes explained different things, the damage that had been done to his knee, how they’d already started him on a blood transfusion, how they were being careful, trying to keep him comfortable, assured her they weren't using morphine, because Wes had read Dick’s file. Her fingers itched to touch him, to reassure herself that he was real and alive, the sound of the heart rate monitor only doing so much, a steady reminder of his fragile mortality.

“Barbara,” Wes said, his voice breaking her out of her trance. “You can move closer.”

“I…” she stammered, but rolled closer all the same, her hand reaching out to take his, fingers ghosting gently over the bruised knuckles. “Is he still under…?”

Wes nodded carefully. “I’ve got him on a mild sedative. Leslie and I went back and forth on it a bit, but I think it’ll help even him out. We’re trying not to give him too much of anything until we get that tox report back though.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, tracing the calluses on Dick’s palm, trying not to let her imagination start to picture how he’d gotten each of his injuries.

“For what?”

“Well, for the obvious,” she said, a desperate laugh escaping her lips. “And for letting me back here… I’m probably not supposed to – ”

“You…” Wes interrupted, his voice pitched high in confusion. “You don’t know, do you?”

Barbara turned her eyes to him, her fingers reflexively tightening around Dick’s. “You are the second person to say that to me tonight. I kind of hate it,” she said, brows pinching together.

Wes moved to grab a file off of the side table; he flipped it open, skimming the pages quickly before he held it out to her. Barbara let her eyes dance across the page, seeing her name scrawled in Dick’s slanted handwriting.

“I’m…” she breathed, looking up to meet Wes’s slight smirk. “ _I’m_ medical proxy?” She knew these must have been updated since Dick had come home – no way he would have made her proxy when they were still teenagers.

“It’s kinda why I thought you two were together,” Wes shrugged. “You’re his emergency contact, medical proxy, everything. I mean Wanye’s name is in a few places, but pretty much as a last resort only.”

“I don’t…” Barbara trailed off, her eyes darting over Dick’s face like he would wake up and start giving her answers. She wanted to shake him, make him promise to never do something like this again. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry, begging her memories to stop crashing down around her like a tidal wave.

“I’m going to go for a bit,” Wes told her, his hand squeezing her shoulder again in comfort. “If anything changes, press the call button and someone will come running.”

Barbara nodded, afraid to trust her voice, until the soft tap of Wes’s shoes were down the hall.

“Listen to me, Boy Wonder,” she whispered, trying to will his eyes open, her hand reaching forward to trace the line of his jaw. “I need you to come back to me. You’ve done it before and now I need you to do it again. Whatever they did to you, you need to fight it because we need to talk.”

She moved herself in as tightly as she dared. Despite wanting him awake, his unconsciousness gave her the courage to carefully bring his hand up to her lips, her tears finally sliding down her cheeks. She would stay as long as she needed to, she promised. Barbara made up her mind – she wouldn’t let him leave again.

**\- - * - -**

Damian stood in the doorway uneasily, his eyes boring holes into the unassuming curtain. He knew what he would find beyond it; Father had already been back here, had warned him that Richard’s injuries were… _extensive_ … He had suggested that Damian wait until later, _tomorrow_ or after, but Damian knew that _that_ would not be acceptable; he needed to see with his own eyes, to _know_ with absolute certainty what his choices had wrought. And there were words he needed to say. Before his nerve could fail him, he pushed through the barrier. 

Father’s warning had not been sufficient.

“ _Oh_ ,” the sound escaped through his mouth before Damian had a chance to pull it back in. The single syllable had the _other_ occupant of the room stirring.

“Damian?” Oracle – _Barbara_ asked, her voice groggy as she sat up. She had been resting with her head on the edge of the bed. “I told Bruce to have you wait.”

“I felt that this was important,” he replied numbly. Noticing his fingers still clung to the fabric of the curtain, he did his best to release it. He couldn’t look away from the bed where Richard lay. This was wrong – all of it was. Logically speaking, Damian had known that the injuries had been bad. He had seen the worst of them inflicted, had been beside him on the flight back home, had _watched_ as the older boy – _his brother –_ had writhed in pain.

“He’s so still,” he said aloud, his mind pinpointing the wrongness. Even in his anguish, Grayson had never been still, and while Damian _knew_ that those movements had been from the injuries – both mental and physical, the lack of movement now made him decidedly uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” Barbara answered, her fingers reached out to stroke the exposed skin of Richard’s forearm. “His blood work came back, and between Dr. Thompkins and Wes, they felt it was safe to up the sedative for a little while. They’re hoping that forced calmness might give his body some time to cycle the Nightmare Toxin through his bloodstream without the panic causing any more damage.”

“I’ve never seen him without movement before,” Damian admitted, slowly moving closer to the bed. He was aware of every bandage and bruise, every tube and wire. A part of his mind, one that sounded suspiciously like Grandfather, whispered that if he had _only listened_ , done as he was told, that none of this would have happened.

At this hour, the two of them should have been suiting up and discussing how patrol would go – but instead there was this.

“It _is_ pretty rare,” Barbara agreed. Damian could hear the fondness in her voice, just barely edging out the concern.

“I wanted to formally apologize,” he blurted, keeping his eyes on the steady rise and fall of Richard’s chest instead of looking Barbara in the eye like she deserved.

“ _What?”_

“I will, of course, repeat my apology when Richard wakes up, but for now, you – ”

“Damian, _stop_. You did this already. You apologized, I accepted.”

He paused, forcing himself to meet her gaze. Where he had expected anger, there was only confusion, her eyes narrowing at him – but not unkindly.

“D, this,” she said gesturing around them. “ _This_ isn’t your fault.”

He shook his head, “Of course it is, and I take full responsibility.”

“You’re _eleven_ ,” she insisted, her voice rising just a bit. “Dick’s an adult and he did something stupid – and that’s not even taking into account the people who are _actually_ at fault here. You know, the bad guys?”

“I should have known better.”

“If I had a dollar for every time one of us said that, I’d be richer than your dad.”

Damian paused, squaring his shoulders for the next words he knew would damn him: “I should have listened. I disobeyed your orders.”

Barbara closed her eyes, pulling in a long breath. He watched as she pulled herself back into being Oracle, despite the rumpled clothes and the deceiving slant of her glasses, he knew that her strictness was still there – and he needed it.

“You did,” she said finally, but she didn’t say anything else. He wanted to get the lecture over with, to have her reprimand done so he could start to atone. Her silence was worse than any scolding he could have imagined, and it was because of its gentle, understanding nature

“And?” he prompted.

“And what?”

Damian tossed his hands restlessly into the air, trying not to huff like a child, “And I am ready to accept whatever punishment you deem necessary!” He wasn’t sure what such a failing like this would merit, but would be ready and he would take it without complaint.

“You think I should punish you?”

“Obviously.”

“And what do you suggest?”

Damian paused, frozen before her. He had never been asked to pick his own punishment before. With his grandfather and mother, there had always been a penance, something to drive home his errors – to ensure that they were never repeated.

Even this past year with his father – there had always been repercussions for his actions. More often than not, they were in the form of _groundings_ and _lectures_ and _loss of privileges_ but there was always _something._ He wasn’t sure what kind of mind game she was playing. As his guilt continued to weigh his chest, Damian was convinced all the more of her intelligence.

“What is it, do you think, that I could do that would get you to listen to me?” Barbara asked, her head slanted to one side as she studied him.

It made him feel uncomfortable. He didn’t know how to answer what felt like a trap.

“Because I haven’t figured it out yet,” she continued, her eyes falling down to Richard. “He was right, I should have talked to him first.”

“You want to keep me in the dark?” Damian sputtered, feeling this lack of trust like a slap across his face, finally something he deserved. Maybe that would be a fitting punishment after all – to be left out of conversations. He had obviously proven himself too rash and immature to be able to handle them.

“Yes and no,” Barbara said, breaking into his thoughts. “You father may not have left either of us in charge when it came to capes and cowls, but he _did_ have Dick agree to stay at the manor while he was gone.”

“And?”

“ _And_ , that makes him responsible for you, and you’re eleven, even if you act like you’re going to be turning thirty any day now.”

“But Richard wanted me uninformed,” he said, shame and frustration battling for dominance, both of them losing to the ever present exhaustion.

“He wanted a plan,” Barbara laughed bitterly. “He wanted to be a part of making the plan, and for as much as I talk about including everyone, it was still only _me_ doing the planning. _Me_ controlling the information, and expecting everyone to just follow my directions.”

“Like Father,” Damian offered, surprised by his own answer.

Another laugh, this one a little less bitter escaped from her lips as she rubbed her hands over her face. It was a gesture he was coming to associate with both Richard and Todd as well. “A little, yeah.”

Damian stood across from her, counting each of the breaths that Richard took. He made it to twenty-five.

“Will he be all right?” he asked hesitantly.

Barbara sighed heavily: “I hope so,” she whispered, and Damian was grateful she never tried to lie to him when things were important.

“His nightmares were… _difficult_ ,” he said, still not feeling the word did them justice.

She studied him for a moment before motioning him forward with her arms wide: “Come here.”

“I don’t require physical comfort like some ch –”

“The hug is for me, not you.”

Damian snapped his mouth shut and moved to her, allowing himself to be wrapped in her arms. His body betrayed him, and if this moment ever came up again he would claim his reaction was due to lack of sleep, but he knew at least a part of him had wanted this. This was the start to his absolution.

“I’ve decided on my punishment.”

She pulled back, eyeing with exasperation. “Damian, there is no – ”

He pushed on, raising his voice to speak over her: “I will be relieved of active duty for at least two weeks. In that time, I will work to support you in your role as coordinator and monitor.” He figured it would give him a chance to learn more about what she did – to understand and then maybe give it the respect it deserved.

“Yeah? You’re going to come be _my_ sidekick?”

Damian nodded. It was fitting.

“Counter offer. One week with me, one week with each Tim and Steph in the field since you slipped their protection. If you pay close enough attention, you might even learn something from them.”

He wanted to deny it, but if the events of the last forty-eight hours had taught him anything, it was that he _did_ still have more to learn.

“Your terms are suitable,” he said, offering his hand to shake, but Barbara just rolled her eyes. She took his hand and pulled him back into a hug, her words so quiet, he nearly missed them: _“I’m so glad you’re okay.”_

**\- - * - -**

Artemis’s hand shook as she tried to fit her key into the lock. Inside she could hear Brucely whining and she knew that he deserved a walk, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t exhausted.

“Okay, okay baby,” she soothed, trailing her fingers over his head as he greeted her the second the door was open. Mechanically, she found his leash as he proceeded to sniff her up and down, his tail wagging as he no doubt detected Jason on her borrowed clothes. The dog loved that boy. And there was that word again.

“Fuck,” she whispered, verbalizing something in an attempt to drown out all of the noise in her head. It was too much – everything was too much right now. Quickly, she toed off the combat boots of her uniform in favor of her sneakers that lay by the door. Briefly, she considered retrieving her phone from the counter, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to face it. _Dick would be fine_ she told herself, even if she wasn’t sure it was true.

“Come on.” She turned her back on her phone and shoved her keys into the pocket of her sweatshirt – _Jason’s sweatshirt_ – and headed for the door. Brucely happily trotted along after her, completely unfazed by everything that had happened in the last few hours.

Once they were outside, she let him lead her along their familiar route, trusting him to steer her through the few people they were forced to share the sidewalk with. She knew she just had to keep moving. If she stopped, she wasn’t yet sure she could start again.

Her body felt like she was vibrating. Every emotion possible bounced around inside of her battling for control. There was nothing she could do for Dick and she knew it, but it didn’t ease her guilt.

And then there was Jason. Artemis’ mind struggled to reconcile the man who had, only hours ago, been holding a gun to her head, finger on the trigger, with the version of him she knew. The one who showed up at her apartment, no questions asked, and held her so she could fall asleep. Who, annoyingly, figured out every twist in a movie ten minutes in and, of course, said it all out loud. Who went off on rambling tangents about Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, and William Shakespeare, and only occasionally tied it back to whatever they’d been talking about before. Who showed up at her apartment with groceries and made dinner, just because he knew she hadn’t eaten anything all day.

He has always been a fighter; someone that haunted the nightmares of Gotham’s most dangerous, even though he told her he had never killed within the city limits. And she had never really begrudged him his methods. Her own hands were far from clean.

But what frightened her the most was that she had never actually been afraid he would pull the trigger. Something inside of her intrinsically trusted, no matter what the demons in his head were screaming, he would never hurt her.

The sound of Brucely’s whimper brought her back to reality. She had no idea how, but she was in front of her building.

“Good boy,” she whispered, feeling him nuzzling against her leg before leading her up the stairs.

Back inside, she made sure he was fed before heading to the shower. Even if she could never wipe it from her mind, Artemis knew she had to finish cleaning the last twenty-four hours from her body.

She stripped out of her borrowed clothes, cranked the heat, and let the water do its job. As she scrubbed her fingers through her hair, Artemis tried to figure out when things had gotten so messy.

When she and Jason had first started spending time together, things had been simple. There was a physical attraction that neither one of them had tried to deny. They had used each other’s bodies over and over again. A symbiotic relationship meant to chase away the emptiness that threatened to consume them otherwise. It had been a way not to feel lost – not to feel alone. But somewhere along the way it had shifted.

Both of their schedules leaned heavily towards late night visits, but after the one time she had let slip she hadn’t eaten all day, Jason had started making food an unspoken part of their arrangement, bringing it with him, dragging her out, ordering in, or her favorite – physically sitting her on the counter as he scrounged around in her kitchen, turning whatever scraps and leftovers she had into magic.

And whenever they ate together, they talked. There had always been topics they shied away from; he avoided his death and his time with the al Ghouls, and she often tip-toed around memories of Wally, but they made it work. What had started out physical and fun had become something she looked forward to – made her feel warm and safe in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she cursed, her voice loud enough to bounce around the walls of her shower. No matter what her intentions had been months ago when this started, Artemis knew she had to be honest with herself now. She loved him. It didn’t matter that it was dangerous to do again – to love someone who would so obviously put himself in harm's way. The thought burned across her chest like a bolt of lightning, making her heart beat faster. She was in love with Jason Todd. And she was going to have to tell him. She owed him a chance to run if dealing with the broken mess that made up her emotions wasn’t something he was willing to sign up for.

The rapidly cooling water from the taps pushed her to finish her shower, the final bits of grime falling from her body. Wrapping herself in her towel, Artemis made her way to her bedroom, her mind already starting to form a plan. She would tell him. She would get dressed, drag her ass back to that stupid hospital, and she would tell him the truth. There was probably going to be a little bit of yelling involved because she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from demanding that he never do something as stupid as he’d done today – or at the very least give her the chance to come with him when he did.

Dressed in a pair of jeans and one of her own black t-shirts, Artemis yanked his sweatshirt back on. She pocketed her phone without looking at the screen and made for the door. Throwing it open, she froze. Jason was standing in the hall, his hands at his side.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted. She’d been counting on the drive over to figure out what to say, and right now she had nothing.

“I texted a few times,” he offered, his voice low. “And I tried calling but you didn’t answer. I didn’t like how we left things, so I got a car to come pick me up and then…”

“How long have you been standing here?”

“A few minutes?” he answered, his right hand starting to reach for her before he dropped it back to his side. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. You probably need time to figure out – ”

“No!” Artemis shouted, cringing at her own voice. “No, I just hadn’t been expecting you to be here.”

Jason’s shoulder slumped, his six-two frame suddenly looking small. “I should go.”

“Please don’t.” She reached out for his hand and started pulling him across the threshold of her doorway. Her eyes darted around his body, watching as he moved stiffly after her. The scent of cigarettes clung to him.

“Jay?” she asked softly. “You did… are you cleared to be out of the hospital?”

“What? You think I’d just book outta there?”

“The thought crossed my mind,” she admitted as she led them over to the couch. Without asking, she started to help him out of his jacket, because if he took that off it meant he’d be staying for a while. And she needed him to stay.

“Crossed mine too,” he winced as he sat. “But _someone_ made it Cass’s mission to make sure I saw Doc Thompkins. And you know how Cass feels about missions.”

Artemis hummed in response, grateful all over again for Cassandra. “How is everyone?” she asked, holding his folded jacket against her chest.

“The old man showed up. Kids are fine,” Jason started, pulling his burner phone from his pocket and checking it before setting it face down on the table. “Dick’s out of surgery; he’s stable.”

She nodded. Stable didn’t mean good, but it meant not getting any worse. That would have to be enough for now. “How’s Barb holding up?” A part of her felt guilty for leaving Barbara alone.

Jason smiled a little at Barbara’s name. “She’s with him now. I got her something to eat before I left. And some coffee.” Artemis felt herself relax a little as she sat down on the opposite end of the couch, her feet tucked up beneath her. “I thought…” Jason started, his voice sounding as anxious as Artemis had ever heard it. “I thought about grabbing food for you too, but I wasn’t sure if you’d let me in.”

Her heart clenched at the uncertainty in his voice, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She closed her eyes, but let her fingers cross the space between them.

“I know you’re mad at me,” he whispered. “And I know we should have been smarter about this. But I need you to know, if my family’s in danger, I’m going to make the same choice every time.”

“I know,” she answered, opening her eyes to find him looking at where her hand was resting against his leg. “Jay, I need you to know –”

“We don’t have to do this,” he cut in, his voice rushed. “If you don’t want to talk about this, it’s fine.” He muffled a groan as he sat up straighter, turning to face her more fully. “Nothing has to change. We can just keep doing… whatever the hell this is.” His eyes flashed over her almost feverishly and she was overcome with the urge to reach out and smooth the worried lines that had settled over his face.

He was wrong. There was no way they could keep pretending what they were doing was some casual fling. Not now.

“I don’t think that’s going to work,” she whispered. “Jay, do you… do you think you could…?” Her voice broke. Artemis could feel herself on the brink of tears, dancing on a knife-edge that might cut her open.

“Are you trying to ask me if I love you?”

“Maybe,” she managed. “I know I’m a mess, but I think I – ”

“Yes.” His voice stopped her, strong and sure for the first time since he’d showed up at her door.

“Yes what?” she asked, needing to hear him say it, a part of her terrified he’d only been agreeing to her being a mess.

“Yes, I’m in love with you. I think I have been since the first time you passed out on my couch. But I didn’t want to scare you off.”

She felt the laughter claw its way from her throat before she could stop it, the tears slipping her from her eyes at the same time. The couch shifted as he moved towards her, still hesitant as he reached for her. Artemis closed her eyes again as the pad of his thumb traced her cheek, brushing the tears away.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “Artemis, look at me. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” she cried, hiccupping as the tears came faster. “I’m scared and I’m sorry and – ”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He shifted until she was tucked in against his right side, his arms wrapping around her protectively as he dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

She stayed pressed against him until it felt like she could breathe again, the minutes stretching out as she listened to the beat of his heart. The steady pulse reminding her that he was alive and he was real and he was here.

“I don’t know if this is fair,” she said finally, trying to soak up his presence. Just in case – just in case this was going to be the last time.

“What do you mean?” he asked, fingers brushing through her hair.

“I’m… I am always going to love him.”

Jason’s fingers stilled and she could feel him pull a shaking breath into his body. “Wally,” he said, his voice still calm and sure.

Now Artemis felt like she was waiting for the other shoe – like this would be the moment Jason retracted his declaration. And she didn’t know what she would do when he did.

“You shouldn’t be afraid to say his name, Artemis.”

She swallowed thickly, surprised he hadn’t pulled away from her yet. “I am always going to love Wally.”

“Of course you are,” Jason soothed, his fingers brushing over her skin again. “I’d never expect you not to, but I don’t think love is some finite thing, and you loving him doesn’t make me love _you_ any less.”

Before Wally, Artemis had never thought she’d been worthy of being loved. From a young age she had convinced herself that it was never going to happen, just to protect against the heartache. But the redhead had crashed into her life and they’d danced around and denied their feelings for months before finally giving in. He had been her miracle – her one shot. Wally had become her reason to keep pushing for more; because he had believed she could have a life outside of costumes and masks, she had grown to believe it too. He had taught that she didn’t need to atone for the sins of her family.

“What are you thinking?” Jason asked, startling her from her thoughts.

“I was going to marry him,” she admitted, finally saying something aloud she hadn’t been willing to for years.

Jason nodded like this was normal, like they two of them hadn’t avoided the landmine that was Wally West for the last six months. “Had he asked yet?”

“Not yet, but I knew it was coming.”

“Makes sense,” he said. “You guys had been together for years. What was your plan?”

“What do you mean?”

“House? Kids? The whole deal?” The casual curiosity in his voice made her heart race. There was no judgment there, just an honest desire to know, and never once did he push her away.

“All of it,” she said honestly. “Before him – before Wally – I didn’t think I wanted kids. Or at least I told myself I didn’t want them. I was so afraid of fucking them up like my parents did me you know? But he just made me believe that it was possible – that pretty much anything was.”

A part of her felt wrong for this, for saying these things out loud while Jason continued to hold her close, but she wasn’t sure who it felt like she was betraying.

“And what do you want now?” Jason asked.

“I’m… I’m not sure yet,” she whispered. “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is,” he said, his voice betraying him. He sounded as scared as he did when he first came in.

Artemis pulled back, her eyes searching his face to find her mistake. He had asked, she had wanted to be honest with him. Despite the exhaustion he wore, he smiled at her softly. And then she realized her mistake. She had been so afraid he would reject her that she had never –

“Jay?” she said, leaning forward until her forehead pressed against his. “I love you. I should have said that before – I’m sorry. I – ”

He closed the breath of space between them, his lips chapped, but soft against hers. Artemis relaxed against him, feeling his fingers trace along her jaw, and the promise behind that kiss. He loved her. Despite the tangled mess and shattered pieces still lodged in her heart, _he loved her_.

Without thinking, Artemis pressed her body tighter, shifting until she was in his lap, her arms wrapping up around her neck. She deepened the kiss as his hands shifted down to her hips, fingers pulling her closer until a groan escaped him as her knee brushed against his side.

“Shit,” she cursed, pulling away so quickly she would have tumbled to the floor if not for his hands on her. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking – ”

“It’s okay,” he soothed, despite the tightness in his jaw.

Artemis carefully untangled herself from him, her hand resting against his jaw as she pulled away. “I think we’re going to have to wait on that part.”

“But we’re doing this?” Jason asked, leaning into her hand as his eyes locked on hers.

“Yes,” Artemis nodded, doing her best to match his certainty from before – because he deserved it, because she wanted to be that sure. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, pressing his lips against her palm. Her stomach flipped at the way it rolled off his lips.

“Come on,” she said, reaching out to take both of his hands. “Let’s get you to bed.” He allowed her to help him up, pulling her tight again before letting himself be led towards her bedroom.

Jason dropped the hand she wasn’t holding down, letting Brucely nuzzle against it, the mass of muscle and fur gentle, somehow knowing this wasn’t a time to demand Jason’s attention like he normally did.

Without a word, Artemis helped him out of his shirt and jeans, careful of the bandages wrapped around his body. She arranged the pillows on her bed to help support him and protect his left side.

She leaned down to kiss his lips carefully, fully intent on heading back to the living room to let him rest in peace, when he reached for her hand.

“You gonna stay with me?” he asked, repeating his question from before, and now she knew what he meant.

“I’ll stay,” she promised, pulling always only so that she could join him in the bed, careful to tuck herself against his right side. Brucely jumped up at the end of the bed, circling twice before settling at their feet.

She would stay for as long as Jason wanted. And when the morning came they would take on the day together.

**\- - * - -**

Dick opened his eyes. The room around him was a pale blue, the brightness of the white lights pricing his pupils made him squint in pain. It was too much too fast. He brought his hands up to scrub against his face, unsure exactly of where he was. His brain was fuzzy, the things around him vaguely familiar in a way that told him he should know what was going on – but he couldn’t quite grasp it.

Slowly, he let his blue eyes travel the room – looking for what had woken him. He was alone, at least for the moment, but he was sure he hadn’t been just moments before. Searching his memories, the last bit of something tangible he could find was being on Santa Prisca, alone with Jason in the jungle, but even that was only coming through in fits and starts. Dick could remember being in pain, and the taste of blood in his mouth, but all of that was gone now. The harder he tried to piece his memories together, the blurrier they became. Doing his best to slow his breathing, he closed his eyes again, willing his other senses to pick up the slack.

Far away, he could just make out a voice, soft, whispering, scared. The words were all jumbled, but in a second of clarity he could hear his name, the voice cracking over the edges of it, crying.

_Barbara_.

Dick snapped his eyes open with a start; he frantically searched the room with his eyes again, but couldn’t find her anywhere. His jaw tightened as he sucked in a deep breath. Something crisp and chemical was sticking on the back of this throat, his head throbbed in protest as he twisted his body, letting his feet sink into the carpet beneath the bed he had been laying on. He blinked his eyes slowly; what had once been too bright to see coming into focus. The room around him appeared to be a well-furnished hotel room. He had no idea how he’d gotten here, just that everything about this seemed off; he could still feel the bruises on his body, but he moved with ease. Groaning in frustration, Dick pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, silently begging his head to stop hurting and for the snippets of time bouncing behind his closed eyes to just make sense.

“Dude!” Another voice pierced through the haze, this one louder, clearer; even with his eyes closed he could feel the speaker moving into the room, door clicking shut behind him. Dick slid his hands down, opening his eyes to gaze out from behind his fingers, a mop of bright unruly red filling his vision. He dropped his hands like they’d burned him.

“ _Wally_ ?” His best friend’s name fell breathlessly from his mouth before his brain could fully register the person before him. A feeling of panic welled in Dick’s chest; the last time he had seen Wally West had been years ago, the young man a flash in a swirling vortex of energy. And when that cyclone of movement and color had ended, his friend had been gone – had _ceased_ to exist.

But now? Dick swallowed hard, willing the panic away – because the man in front of him _looked_ real enough. His green eyes were bright, freckles standing out against his pale skin a smile a mile wide adorned his face.

“Uh duh, lover boy. Who’d you expect? The blushing bride?” Wally laughed, the sound filling the room with a kind of warmth Dick hadn’t felt in… he didn’t know how long. “You _know_ she’s sticking with tradition, man. You don’t get to see her until she’s good and ready to come down that aisle.”

“ _What?”_ Dick asked, still struggling to line up all the pieces in his head. But Wally just rolled his eyes, zipped towards him and immediately started fussing with Dick’s close.

“Dick, tell me you didn’t just fall asleep on your wedding day, _in your tux_?”

“In my…?” Dick looked down, trying to figure out how he hadn’t noticed it before. He blinked again and again, his eyes refusing to cooperate. Groaning in frustration, he spied a mirror and shot over towards it, his own face looking back at him. He seemed _older_ than he remembered; Dick couldn’t explain it exactly, but it was just another thing that seemed _off_ and when he looked down he could finally see what Wally had been talking about. Dick found himself dressed in a crisp black tux, a vibrant blue tie hanging slightly off kilter around his neck, a single yellow daisy pined neatly to his lapel.

“You’re lucky you didn’t squash that flower,” Wally laughed. “I would have had to give you mine to stop her from killing you.”

“Her?” Dick asked, not exactly sure who he was supposed to be marrying but if the daisy was any indication... He shook his head hard, trying and failing _yet again_ to make all the pieces fit. The familiar twinge of panic started to make his body shake, Dick reached out, griping Wally’s shoulders as tightly as he dared “Wally, what is going on?” he demanded.

His friend’s smile faltered only an inch as he raised his hands up in defense. “Dude, you’re freakin’ me out a bit.”

Dick’s eyes caught on the silver band adorning Wally’s left ring finger. “When did you get married?” he spluttered, the crack of mania so clear in his voice, it made him feel sick to his stomach.

“Whoa, whoa! Deep breaths, Dick,” Wally soothed, carefully pulling himself from Dick’s grasp as he pulled him over to a chair Dick hadn’t noticed before. He allowed himself to be perched carefully on the arm. “I knew today was going to be a little rough on you, but I never expected this. You’re the one who wanted to get married, remember? You’ve been asking her for years.”

“ _None of this makes sense…”_ Dick whispered, his eyes frantically searching Wally’s face, looking for something that didn’t fit.

“Dick, you were the Best Man at my wedding. Hell, you walked Artemis down the aisle. You remember yet? I mean, shit man, you’re my son’s Godfather. You, know Jai – little guy? Likes it when you flip him in the air? Drives his mother crazy?” Wally’s voice grew louder with almost every word, the pitch climbing higher and higher until it blurred in and out of Dick’s consciousness.

“This isn’t real,” Dick said, squeezing his eyes shut. “ _This isn’t real, isn’t real, isn’t real.”_ He kept mumbling the phrase over and over again as if saying it out loud would shake the feeling of hands on his shoulders, would make it feel like his body wasn’t vibrating, ready to explode apart. “You’re dead, not here, this can’t be happening.”

He felt the hands squeeze tighter, could feel his skin burn as it started to bruise. Choking back a cry, Dick managed to peel his eyes open again, meeting his best friend’s gaze, seeing the sadness, the desperation pooling.

Wally’s clothes had changed. Instead of a tux to match Dick’s own, he wore the familiar yellow and red of his Kid Flash uniform, his goggles pushed up on his forehead, keeping the long strands of his hair from his eyes. 

“You’re right Dick,” he said, his voice so low Dick had to lean in to hear it. “This isn’t real. I’m not exactly _alive_ , but right now, neither are you.”

The room before him flashed violently, colors blurring so fast Dick couldn’t keep up with them until everything around them settled in darkness. Dick looked down to see his tux was gone, replaced by his Nightwing uniform, the blue of crest matching the tie he’d been wearing only moments before, the tiny splash of yellow gone, like it had never been there, _and of course it hadn’t_.

“Three things,” he mumbled to himself, his voice growing thick with pain. “Three things I can…” Dick looked down, choking, but in the darkness all he could see was his dead friend and the blood seeping through his own uniform – red smearing over the blue. “ _Fuck,_ ” he hissed, his whole body trembled. Everything from before, from the jungle to Crane’s damn concoction to the Joker, spun at him, slicing through his brain. A faint, but steady high-pitched beeping assaulted his ears, cutting through everything else, making him scream.

The light around him flashed, illuminating Wally’s form, the older boy still clinging tight to his shoulders, the sorrow on his face so real it nearly swallowed Dick whole. The beeping sped up, going faster and faster until it crashed over an imaginary precipice, stealing Dick’s breath with it, the only sound left a keening wail.

“Wall… _Wally_ ,” Dick heard himself beg, tasting blood on his tongue. “What’s happening?”

“You’re dying,” Wally whispered, his head pressing tightly against Dick’s. “Unless you pull your head out of your ass, you’re going to die.”

“Ngh…” Dick painted, struggling in Wally’s grasp; his body felt like he was seizing. “I don’t want…”

“I know, I know,” Wally soothed, his hand threading carefully though Dick’s hair. “Listen, can you hear her? She’s calling you. Follow her voice.”

Dick leaned in, straining through the pain, trying to hear it, the sound of his name, the pledging, broken way it cut across the abyss.

“There it is,” Wally said, his voice coming out in a rush. “Grab on, and don’t let go. She needs you, Dick. _I need you_. You gotta go back so you can find me.”

“Fi – find you?” Dick slurred, already feeling the grip on his shoulders fading. He yelled, trying to make his voice heard over the growing noise around them. “But you’re… you’re dead! How can I…?”

Another smile exploded across Wally’s face, one that Dick remembered seeing countless times in their childhood. “I believe in you, Rob. _Think_. You know where I am. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

“Wally!” Dick screamed, a white-hot shock, seemingly pulsing through his friend’s hands, now planted firmly on his chest. Dick staggered, feeling his knees give way beneath him. “Wally, what the…?”

“You gotta go, man.” Wally urged. “You gotta go so you can bring me home.” Another bolt of pain arced through Dick’s body making him jerk in agony.

“I’ll see you soon, Dick,” Wally promised, leaning over him, still smiling. “Soon.”

Dick felt like the world around him was being torn apart, like his own body was shredding cell by cell until he was nothing but pain. He looked up in time to see his best friend wink before pulling his goggles back down over his eyes – darting away into the blinding light surrounding him.

He could feel one last scream as it ripped through his lungs, and in the distance a voice still called to him, something just barely there, begging him to come home.

**\- - * - -**

The others had all stopped in. Bruce had been first, coming in with Leslie who explained everything they knew so far. Most of it had been a repeat of what Wes had already told her. If Bruce had been surprised to see Barbara there he kept it to himself. Bruce had nodded along, asking questions there weren’t answers to yet, his eyes never leaving Dick. Once Leslie had left, he had stood awkwardly, his shoulder hunched and his hand hovering over Dick’s hair hesitantly, before sighing, his fingers brushing the sweat damp lock from his son’s forehead.

“Damian’s been worried about him,” he said, his voice rumbling through the quiet that had fallen with Dr. Thompkin’s departure. Barbara noticed the deflection, but nodded along anyway.

“I know,” she answered. “He’s now apologized twice. And he kept trying to get me to punish him. He’s going to be off active duty for a week with me, and then he’s going to work with Tim and Steph.”

Bruce nodded, only half listening as he shakily pulled a breath into his lungs. She watched as his eyes continued their search, landing briefly on her fingers where they lay on the bed laced with Dick’s, but he remained blessedly silent on the matter. Which was good, because Barbara had no idea what she was doing – only that she didn’t want to let go.

“I’ll be out with the kids, if you need anything.” He didn’t wait for a response, only trailed the back of his hand over Dick’s cheek before exiting.

Not long after, Cass, Tim, and Steph had shown up together, the three of them crowding the doorway, but not coming inside. Steph, their apparent designated spokeswoman, told her they were heading home, and to let them know if anything changed. Tim and Cass hadn’t said a word. Which, while normal for Cass, seemed odd for Tim. Barbara made a mental note to check in with him later, silently promising herself she wouldn’t let him shrug his way out of a meeting with Dinah after all of this was through.

Jason had come in, handed her a cup of coffee and a brown paper bag from the café across the street. It had held both a chicken wrap and her favorite almond pastry. He hadn’t said much, just that he was going to find Artemis and that he’d be back in the morning. Before leaving, Jason had brought his head down to whisper in Dick’s ear.

His words: “ _Fight it, Dickie,”_ played in her mind on repeat, until her eyes had slipped shut long enough for Bruce to stop back in one last time to tell her he was taking Damian home.

“If anything changes,” he’d said, voice gruff. He hadn’t needed to finish the sentence. Barbara knew.

But that had been two hours and twenty minutes ago. The only moving she had done since then was to nibble at the food Jason had brought, and move herself out of the way when Wes, Leslie, or Nurse Deb had come in to check on Dick. She heard everything, from their quiet observations, to the shallow whimpers that had escaped his lips when they’d changed the bandages.

She had been the one to push the call button when the steady beeping of his heart rate monitor had spiked thirty minutes ago, her own heart feeling frozen in response. Nurse Deb had come in, adjusted something on Dick’s IV, given Barbara a soothing _“It’s alright, Baby. He’s still fighting,”_ before writing something on his chart and heading back out into the hall.

In their lives, everything seemed to be a fight, and as she sat there, her mind playing cruel tricks and bringing up long buried memories, Barbara was beginning to wonder if that would ever change.

As if in response, she could feel her own heart rate starting to climb again. Instead of trying to deal with it, Barbara went for the distraction, pulling her phone out, the white numbers displaying **11:32 PM** in block type before her. There were two messages from her father, just checking in. As she looked around the hospital room, breathing in the smell of cleaners and something so distinctly _medical_ she knew she owed him another thank you. He had been the one by her side throughout so much of her own stint in the ICU. Looking down at Dick it was impossible not to wonder what would have happened if her father _hadn’t_ been there the night he had come to see her.

She stretched her fingers out, grazing them against the exposed skin of Dick’s arm, the one with the IV line running into it.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” she whispered, “but I’m here.”

The rhythmic beeping of his heart monitor was the only reply Barbara got, the steady beat covering the still shallow sound of his breathing, but she watched the rise and fall of his chest. He _was_ still breathing, _he was still here._

_Beep. Beep. Beep_.

A part of her was glad that others hadn’t been able to stay. The rest of them had done their time, keeping vigil over him as they’d flown back to Gotham, and now it was her turn. She was sure she wouldn’t have been able to stomach the small talk if she’d tried to share this space with any of them anyway. What would she have said? How long would it have taken someone to start asking her questions she didn’t know how to answer? _What was going on between the two of them? What did_ she _want?_

_Beep. Beep. Beep_.

Barbara drew her fingers over Dick’s exposed skin, tracing the faded scars on his knuckles, the two others she could reach running up the back of his forearm towards his elbow from where he’d tried to block a knife when they were kids. Her eyes found more; Dick’s body was a roadmap of close calls and second chances. There were some she recognized, stories she could recall being a part of and others she had listened to after. And there were more, ones she had caught glimpses of but hadn’t heard the story for yet. Her fingers danced over one she didn’t know, learning the unfamiliar pattern of a crooked pink line under the left side of his jaw.

_Beep. Beep. Beep_.

“I don’t know what to do about you,” she whispered. “I know it kills you when I try to keep you at arms length, but every time something like this happens I…” she had to stop, pull herself together. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t anyone else around to see her, Barbara refused to cry. She worried that if she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop.

She pressed her forehead against his hand: “I don’t know how many more risks I can watch you take before I fall apart. _I’m sorry_ … it feels like since you’ve been back all we do is fight, and I am just so scared I’m going to close my eyes and you’ll be gone again.”

_Beep. Beep. Beep_.

For a heart stopping second, Barbara felt his fingers tighten around her own. A ragged broken sound fell from his lips, making her jerk up, her eyes quickly scanning his body and flashing to the heart monitor, the rhythm starting to spike and dip like it had before.

“ _No_ ,” she pleaded, her fingers reaching for the call button. She pushed it, her other hand sweeping up over his forehead, his skin clammy.

“Come on, Dick. Don’t do this.” The seconds sped by, his breathing growing more ragged, she pressed the button again.

“ _Please, please, please,”_ she repeated, her own breathing growing frantic as she listened for the sound of footsteps down the hall. This wasn’t like the last time – his body started to shake under her fingers, each painful jerk accompanied by a groan or wheeze.

“Somebody help!” she screamed, finally hearing the thud of someone running, just as the alarm on Dick’s monitor started to sound. “ _No, no_ , stay with me Boy Wonder. _I need you, don’t leave me again._ ”

“Barbara, move back,” Dr. Thompkins called as she moved into the room. “Deb, grab the cart.” Nurse Deb came flying into the room, bringing the crash cart with her.

Barbara reluctantly pushed herself from the bed, clutching her hands into fists so tight she could feel her nails break skin. Her eyes darted back and forth from the two women to the heart monitor: the once soothing beeping angry and unpredictable, a threat more than an assurance of life.

With an unnerving calm, Leslie injected something into his IV bag, nodding for the nurse to approach.

Barbara watched as Deb began cutting away Dick’s bandages, leaving his chest bare before starting to attach different sticky pads to him: a defibrillator.

“ _Not on my watch_ ,” Leslie whispered, her hands moving to Dick’s face.

A part of her expected it, but Barbara wasn’t ready for the flat line when it came. The keening sound reaching inside of her, icy tendrils surrounding her own heart.

“No!” Barbara screamed, loud enough that Dinah would have been proud, the sound torn from somewhere deep within her. She shrank back as far as she could, wanting to be out of the way, wanting the floor to swallow her whole.

The defibrillator beeped out a warning, the robotic call of _shock advised_ and _stand clear_ cut across the room. Barbara listened, shaking, to the sound of it charging, and then discharging, the muscles of Dick’s body tensing under the electric pulse.

She knew she should have been told to leave, but to move would have put her in the way, so she listened, her mind cataloging every detail to play out again for her later.

The robotic voice rang out again: “ _Analyzing, analyzing, no pulse detected. Shock advised, stand clear.”_

Dick’s body jerked again. Barbara thought she was going to be sick.

“ _Please, please, please_ ,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure she believed in a god but she was willing to sell her soul to any deity listening, if only they would save him.

“ _Analyzing… analyzing…_ ” Barbara’s body tensed, waiting through the interminable seconds. “ _Pulse detected, not shock advised.”_ His body tensed again, this time shuddering of its own volition, a ragged breath being pulled into unsteady lungs.

“Thank God,” Nurse Deb whispered, all three sets of eyes turning back to the screen of the heart monitor, watching as the green line blipped sluggishly back to life.

Barbara sobbed, her eyes dropping down to Dick’s face as Leslie and Nurse Deb continued to work.

The slightest bit of blue met her grateful gaze, an exhausted smile just barely quirking his lips.

_He’d come home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are we feeling? Still with us? 💛💛 Thank you all so much for all of the support and love that you have shown us throughout this story. We're so excited to be coming to the end. Your comments and kudos continue to mean more than you know - so _thank you_. Now please find yourselves some serotonin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This has been such a long process and we are so happy to be able to share it with you. Your comments, kudos, and love make our hearts happy.


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